Are You That Somebody?
by WerdSmith89
Summary: AU: What starts off as a typical day at work for Mercedes Jones ends with her having to leave everything behind and start over. Enter Sam Evans, who - unknown to her - happens to know more about her than he lets on. What happens to sparks when secrets, favors, and hitmen get in the way?
1. Chapter 1 - From the Beginning

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did... **

* * *

This could not be happening.

Mercedes closed her eyes and stifled a scream as footsteps approached her hiding spot.

As she willed her body to stop trembling, certain that the combination of her thumping heart and jangling of hangers would reveal her location, she heard a voice call out from the other room.

"Get the disks and let's go. We gotta move."

The footsteps stopped their advance and the owner shuffled from one foot to another.

"Nah man, we have to check. You know Nick's broad has keys to this place. She could be here."

The voice from the other room drew closer, joining the first intruder. Both men were now in the room, standing inches from her location in the closet.

"We have to go. Now. You know our orders – in and out. If the bitch is here, so be it. We'll deal with it later. Let's move."

Mercedes held her breath, praying that the first man would go along with his partner.

After what seemed like an eternity, two pairs of footsteps turned and exited the room. She listened as they barreled down the stairs and out the front door, just as they entered.

Mercedes stayed in the closet long after they left, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

This could not be happening.

* * *

_Two hours earlier._

"Are you serious right now?"

Mercedes sighed as she flicked on her turn signal and changed lanes.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I have to go in real quick and then I'll be back. You guys go ahead and order without me."

Silence.

"Kurt?"

"Mercedes, I love you. You know this. So that gives me the right to say what I'm about to say."

"Kurt I-"

"No Mercedes. No. It's your fricken day off. The first, might I add, that you've had since taken this god forsaken job two years ago. Two. Years. Mercedes. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

She was silent.

Kurt sighed, his voice gentler this time.

"Mercedes, honey, please. What are you doing?"

Mercedes closed her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feeling she had inside.

"Nick needs me to pick something up for him. He's out of town and –"

Kurt sighed, clearly frustrated.

"The man is using you 'Cedes. You got this as a temporary position and he's weaseled his way into your life, effectively making it revolve around his."

"Kurt, you don't know what – "

"We all know," he continued over her protests, "that you're waiting for the day he sees you, but if he hasn't by now, he won't. I don't know why you've convinced yourself that this - that _he_- is what and who you want, but the Mercedes Jones I know would smack this imposter upside her head if given the chance."

Mercedes was silent as she pulled into the sprawling home that belonged to her boss. She turned off the engine and listened to the silence that hung between her and her best friend.

He was right. As much as it hurt to admit it, he was right. She told him as much.

"I can't do this anymore. This is the last day."

Kurt sighed. "Like the last day last year or the last day last month?"

Mercedes blushed.

"No. The last day for real. I'll leave him a note."

"A 'Dear John'? Cute."

Mercedes smiled, the thinning of her plump lips devoid of humor and full of sadness.

"Something like that." She looked at her watch and unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Look, I've got to go. Let me call you when I'm done, okay?"

"Okay. Mercedes, I care about you and I don't want to see you doing this to yourself anymore."

"I know Kurt. I love you too. Tell the others that I'll catch up with you guys later. Enjoy your lunches."

She hung up before he could respond. She wasn't mad at him or even at herself. More than anything else she was disappointed in what she had become.

As she exited her car and used her key to enter the house through the backdoor, she thought about Kurt's words.

"…_the Mercedes Jones I know would smack this one upside her head if given the chance."_

He was right. As always. This wasn't the Mercedes who left Lima with lofty aspirations of being a star. When she first got to LA she was giddy with excitement. The possibilities were endless. But as it became strikingly clear that the only time she'd be able to use her vocal chords was as a backup singer or on stage at one of the local lounges, she realized that she needed to have a day job.

That's how she met Nick.

Nick Clemmons was everything that you imagined a big shot LA businessman to be. Suave, intelligent and handsome to boot. She remembered walking into his office with a resume, hoping that this, the tenth cold call she made that day, would be worth it.

_"Remember baby girl, fake it til you make it," Mercedes told herself as she approached the receptionist at the front desk. _

_"Hi," she began, "My name is Mercedes Jones and – "_

_"Look hun, I'm gonna stop you right there because I've heard this story before." The woman looked up and Mercedes could see the game of solitaire reflected in her designer lenses. "You're looking for a job and are wondering if we happen to have any openings."_

_Mercedes' smile faltered slightly. "Yes, ma'am."_

_The woman chuckled softly. "Oh honey, don't 'ma'am' people here. It implies that you think someone is much older than you and in LA, that's a no no. Where are you from?"_

_"Lima, Ohio."_

_"Cute." She paused, sizing Mercedes up. "Okay, look. Tell ya what. Leave your information here and if something comes up I'll give you a call."_

_Mercedes flashed her a smile and thanked her as she handed her the piece of paper that contained the list of odd jobs she had done in the twenty-five months since landing in the city. _

_"Thank you so much. Have a wonderful day and I look forward to hearing from you."_

_As she turned and prepared to walk back to the elevator, she heard a deep voice that stopped her in her tracks._

_"Gwen, I need you to do something for me."_

_Mercedes turned to see who the voice belonged to and inhaled sharply. Approaching the reception desk was the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life._

_"Can you call one of the temp agencies and have them send someone over?"_

_"Again?" Gwen laughed._

_The man let out a grunt. _

_"That idiot hung up on Donovan. Again. For the third time this week."_

_"Yikes."_

_"Yeah, yikes. I can't miss out on closing this client because some idiot doesn't know the difference between putting someone on hold and hanging up on them. So call the temp agency. Now."_

_The receptionist looked up and saw Mercedes standing there, watching the exchange._

_"Actually, we have someone right here." She motioned for Mercedes to come to her._

_Mercedes stared at her for a few seconds, silently wondering what was happening. The man cleared his throat, breaking her daze and she met his eyes, blushing slightly. _

_"Here goes nothing," she thought as she put on a smile and strode over to the desk. _

_"Hello sir, my name is Mercedes Jones, nice to meet you."_

_"Mercedes," the man repeated. "I'm Nick Clemmons."_

_She reached out and shook the hand that was extended to her. She drew in a sharp breath as they connected, feeling a spark run up her arm. As she looked from their joined hands up to his eyes, she noticed a myriad of emotions – humor, interest and… something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on it._

Mercedes shook her head, bringing herself back to Nick's kitchen. She closed the door and stepped into the house she knew like her own. Over past two years, she quickly became Nick's right hand man of sorts, their relationship as close as it could be on a professional level. But that's where it stopped. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she went to work each day hoping for more. She felt something for the man. Not quite love, but something. Whatever it was, it wasn't returned, a fact that she finally forced herself to acknowledge.

As she moved through the room and entered the hallway heading toward his office, something outside the window caught her attention.

A black sedan pulled up to the curb and two men exited the vehicle. Mercedes stood rooted in her position as they crossed the street and approached the house. For some reason unknown, Mercedes' feet began propelling her up the stairs to the second floor. She had one thought and one thought alone – hide.

As she ran into one of the guests rooms, she heard the doorbell ring.

After a few more rings, the door opened and she heard Nick's voice.

"What the – "

The next sound she heard was that of a gunshot and the door closing.

* * *

Mercedes screamed as the door to the closet she was hiding in opened.

"You're fine. Ma'am I'm with the LAPD. You're fine. Everything is okay."

The tears that she had been holding back escaped as she let out a sob.

The officer held out his hand and helped her out of the closet, walking the shaking Mercedes to sit on the bed.

"Ma'am, I know this is a lot right now, but we need you to tell us exactly what happened."

Mercedes, who had been staring silently at her clasped hands and lifted her eyes to his.

"I got a call this afternoon from my boss, Nick –"

She stopped.

"Nick! Where is he?" She jumped up from the bed, only to be stopped as she ran towards the doorway. She shrugged the officer off and ran to the top of the stairs, immediately wishing she hadn't.

The scene below her was one out of a movie.

There was blood on the walls and a gurney in the middle of the foyer.

"Miss, I'm sorry, but –"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. This didn't make any sense.

"No." This time the single syllable was stronger. "He's not dead. He's not even in town. He –"

The officer gently led her back into the room.

"Miss, please. Tell us what happened from the beginning."


	2. Chapter 2 - Eavesdropping

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...**

**Also, thank you all so much for the views, reviews, favorites and follows! I seriously didn't expect anyone to pick this up, I was just writing to write. I'm glad you like it though and hope you enjoy this next section (which, fyi, picks up a month after Chapter One). Yay!**

* * *

Mercedes woke up hours before her alarm and remained in bed, her puffy eyes adjusting to the darkness and her thoughts racing. It was a never-ending battle – one moment she was trying to forget everything that had happened last month and the next she was painstakingly going over the details, attempting to make sense of it all.

* * *

_The day of Nick's murder._

"Miss –"

"Jones," she whispered.

"Miss Jones, can you please describe the nature of your relationship with the deceased?"

Deceased. She felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Miss Jones?," he said softly.

She looked at the officer.

"I've been Nick's assistant for the past two years."

"And you were here this afternoon because…"

Mercedes explained how Nick called and asked her to pick up some files he needed for a meeting the next morning.

"He said that he couldn't get them himself because he'd be heading to the office directly from his flight. He asked me to bring the files in and leave them on his desk."

"Did Mr. Clemmons know what time you were planning to pick up the documents?"

"No… He asked what I was doing and I told him I was on my way to lunch. It wasn't until after we hung up that I decided to come straight here since I was already on the road."

"Do you know what the files were?"

"Not quite sure. He told me where they were and what they would look like. He had a meeting with a client named Donovan scheduled if that helps."

The officer – Arthur Abrams she finally learned - wrote something down on his notepad.

"Miss Jones, what was the nature of Mr. Clemmons' business?"

"Mergers and acquisitions."

More writing.

"Miss Jones, did you ever have contact with Mr. Clemmons' clients?

"Some, not all."

The interview went on for what seemed like another hour before Officer Abrams closed his notebook and gave her a small smile.

"Miss Jones, thank you for your cooperation. I think that's all we need tonight. We'll be in touch if we have any follow up questions and if you think of anything, please don't hesitate to call or come by the station," he said handing her his card. "I've included my personal number as well. Feel free to use that day or night."

* * *

Mercedes rolled over and threw back the covers, resigned to the fact that it would be a while before she fell back asleep. She reached over to her nightstand and turned on the light, glancing at the textbook that sat beside the lamp. Since she was taking a break from performing, Mercedes enrolled in a music business program offered through UCLA's extension school. At first she was hesitant, but quickly found that the program was a great fit for her ultimate goal of music management, both her own and that of other artists. She was a couple courses shy of certification and was excited to see what doors would open when she was finished.

She walked out of her room and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, immediately struck by how cold it was in the hallway.

"What the – Didn't I close this?" she asked out loud as she walked over to the living room window. She pulled it shut and looked around the room, her heart racing. She _always_ closed the window before going to bed.

Mercedes grabbed her phone and started dialing Officer Abram whose number she'd stored in the device. Before she completed the call she pressed "end" and shook her head.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ she thought to herself. It was four o'clock in the morning. The man was probably asleep. Given the past month, the nightly task had probably slipped her mind.

She sighed and walked over to the kitchen cabinets, turning on the faucet to let the water run cold and filled a glass, taking a long sip as she leaned against the counter.

When she was done, she turned back to the sink and mindlessly went through the motions of rinsing out the glass. It wasn't until she felt the scalding sting of the water that she realized she had been lost in her thoughts again. She turned off the faucet and put the glass on a drying rack.

_Get some sleep_, she thought to herself.

* * *

The next morning Mercedes pulled into the parking garage of her office, the first time she had been back since the murder. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach and let out several shaky breaths as she exited the vehicle and made her way over to the building.

_Just go in and get your things. Don't talk to anyone. Don't look at his office. Just walk into yours and close the door. _

She stepped out of the elevator and quickly waved to Gwen as she walked into her office, locking the door behind her. Mercedes felt bad for brushing her off, especially after all the woman had done for her. Gwen had been the sounding board Mercedes needed when she first started and as she gained her footing around the office, the two remained good friends. Gwen was like the aunt she never had and had checked in on Mercedes periodically in her absence.

After making a mental note to speak with Gwen on her way out, Mercedes scanned her office and noticed that, although it looked normal, there were little things out of place. The closet door was open as if someone had gone through it and her desk looked like it had been searched as well. The intruder had tried to cover their tracks, but was unable to recreate her meticulous organization system.

She immediately attributed to the disruption to Rachel, the new assistant for the other section of the office. Normally she would ask Mercedes for case files, but had probably tried to locate them herself throughout the month.

Mercedes sat down and prepared to check the phone messages that had undoubtedly piled up while she was gone. As she looked in her desk drawer for a pen to replace the one missing from her desk, she blindly reached over to the phone and pressed a button.

"So where do we stand at this point?"

She looked up at the sound of Jesse St. James' voice fill the room through the speakerphone. Instead of pressing the "voicemail" feature, she had pressed the extension for his office's intercom.

"Shit," she whispered and reached over to end the connection. Her finger had barely reached the disconnect button when a second voice came through the speaker and made her blood run cold.

"Same as before. The disks we got give us some information, but there's nothing about where he put the money."

Mercedes lowered her hand. It was the same voice she had heard as she hid in the closet. It was one of the men who murdered Nick.

She held her breath as she listened to Jesse let out a slew of curses.

"What the FUCK did that prick do with that money?!" he shouted. "You listen to me and you listen well. Donovan is starting to ask questions and I need to have answers. HOW THE HELL DO YOU HIDE 50 MILLION DOLLARS!?"

The second man began to speak. "I don't know Mr. James, we've looked –"

"'I don't know Mr. James'," Jesse mimicked with disgust. She heard him slam something on his desk. "You mean to tell me there was no information anywhere in that fucking house? Fucking idiots. If you want something done…"

There was a long period of silence and Mercedes was afraid they had somehow realized that the intercom was on.

"Mercedes Jones."

She jumped at the mention of her name.

"Sir?"

"If anyone would know anything about that money it would be her."

"We've already checked her office and there was nothing there. We checked her house last night too… Do you want me to deal with her directly?"

There was a pause before Jesse answered.

"No, I'll handle her. You get the hell out and don't come back until you have something substantial to tell me."

"Yes sir."

Mercedes quickly disconnected the line, her heart pounding and ears ringing. She had to get out of there.

She pushed herself away from her desk and stood up on shaky legs, willing her hands to grab her purse and jacket. She rushed out of her office and walked quickly to the elevator.

"Are you okay honey?," Gwen asked as Mercedes rushed by her desk.

Mercedes nodded and got on the elevator, unable to speak. Nick stole money? Jesse had him killed? Those men had been in her house? She thought back to the open window. A million and one questions raced through her mind as she mentally replayed the conversation she just overheard.

As she raced out of the building and into her car, a furious Jesse St. James was storming out of his office upstairs.

"When is Mercedes Jones due back in the office?" he demanded as he made his way over to Gwen's desk.

The confused woman looked at the newly appointed president of the company. Unbeknownst to her, she was about to say the words that would send Mercedes' world into a tailspin.

"You just missed her. She literally just bolted out of her office. Poor thing, it was as if she had seen a ghost."


	3. Chapter 3 - Take Off

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...**

**Hi y'all. Thanks again for the follows, alerts, favorites and comments! No, the officer isn't Sam haha, sorry to disappoint, but they'll meet... soon :) Truth be told, I'm anxious for it to happen too! **

**And I know, things are really bad for her right now, but it'll get better I promise - just not yet :)**

* * *

"Why aren't you listening to me?" Mercedes yelled, frustrated with the man behind the plexiglass.

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. I'll let Offi-."

"CALM DOWN?! Are you –"

"Miss Jones?"

Mercedes looked up at the sound of her name and saw Officer Abrams walking over to her, a cautious smile on his face.

"How are you?"

"I need to speak with you. Now." Mercedes skipped the pleasantries and got right to it.

Officer Abrams looked at her for a moment and nodded briskly. "Of course. Right this way."

He walked her over to an empty room and closed the door.

"What can I do for you?"

"I think I know who murdered Nick."

Officer Abram's eyebrow shot up and he clasped his hands, nodding for her to continue.

"Last night I woke up at around four and noticed that the window in my living room was open. I didn't think much of it and figured that I must have forgotten to close it. I've been so out of it these past few weeks..."

She paused, collecting her thoughts. Office Abrams nodded encouragingly.

She took a breath. "Today I went into my office and overheard a conversation between Jesse St. James, the new president of the company, and a man whose voice I recognized from Nick's house."

"What did they discuss?"

She explained what she's heard –the missing money, the suspicious client, the files and a furious Jesse.

"Then they started talking about me and how they searched my office and apartment, but couldn't find anything." Mercedes shuddered as she thought about the invasion of privacy. "That man was in my house last night."

A look of anger flashed across the officer's face.

"Wait here for a minute."

Mercedes nodded as Officer Abrams left the room. She felt her phone buzz and reached into her purse, sighing with relief when she saw Kurt's name appear on the screen.

"Can't talk now. Text you in a few," she quickly messaged him.

When Officer Abrams returned to the room several minutes later, he was all business and had a folder in his hand.

"Miss Jones, the information you just gave us may be the break we need." He paused. "We've been digging into some business records and it seems that your boss wasn't quite who he said he was."

She looked at him, silently begging him to continue, but terrified of what she would hear next.

"Were you aware of what industries his clients dealt in?"

Mercedes shook her head. "Like I said, I knew some of the clients through schedules and whatnot, but I didn't have any background on them."

The officer nodded. "Do you recognize this man?," he asked as he slid a photo across the table to her.

She looked at it, trying to put pieces together in her mind. Nothing clicked.

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"That's the most ruthless drug and human trafficker in the country."

Mercedes looked from Officer Abrams back to the photo of the smiling gentleman with salt and pepper hair. She raised her question filled eyes and found the officer staring intently at her.

"What does he have to do with anything?"

There was a pause before he answered.

"You mentioned that Mr. Clemmons had a meeting with Donovan scheduled? The gentleman you're looking at is Klauss Donovan Mitchell. We have reason to believe that Nick was helping him keep profits from his businesses off the records. It seems that Nick got a little greedy and decided to cushion his own pockets along the way."

Mercedes' eyes widened as she listened. "And Jesse?"

"Still working on that, but based on what you said, it seems that Mr. St. James is trying to replace the missing money before Mr. Mitchell finds out."

Mercedes sat back in her chair and let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Officer Abrams was silent before he began again.

"Miss Jones, do you have a place you can go until we get this all sorted out?"

Mercedes looked back at him.

"Go?"

He nodded. "You said these men were in your house. Given the nature of the situation, I think it's best if we remove you from the situation as soon as possible."

Mercedes started to panic.

"I… I can't just leave. My whole life is here!"

"I understand that, but we ne-"

"No! You don't understand. What am I supposed to do? Just uproot everything and look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? I don't have anywh-" her voice broke. There was no way she was returning to Lima, especially if she was in danger. She wouldn't put her family at risk.

Officer Abrams pushed out his chair and walked around the table to crouch beside her.

"Miss Jones… Mercedes."

She blinked at his words. He had never called her by her first name before.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay?"

"And if I refuse?"

"I'm sorry?," he asked confused.

"What happens if I don't go? What happens if I tell you to fuck off and that I'm not involved any more? I haven't done anything wrong."

Officer Abrams was silent for a few moments.

"I know you don't believe you know anything, but I'm not convinced. You may have seen or heard something that didn't seem significant at the time, but could be the answer to everything. And if we think that, there's no doubt that Mr. St. James and Mr. Mitchell will think the same thing too. They've already searched your home and office. It won't be long before they come for you directly. You have the right to refuse our assistance, but if you do, there won't be much we can do to help."

Mercedes listened to his words, a sense of dread washing over her.

"When do I have to go?"

"As soon as possible. I've called in a few favors." He reached over and picked up the folder he brought in the room.

"In here is a one-way ticket to Nashville. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at 4:57. There will be a police detail waiting at your apartment as you pack and someone at the airport to meet you when you land."

Mercedes looked at him. "Tomorrow?"

He nodded.

"And what am I supposed to tell people? My boss stole some money from a drug lord and now I have to skip town because there's a chance he may come after me?"

Officer Abrams shook his head.

"It's best if you don't mention the case to anyone. If you have to tell your loved ones about your whereabouts, just tell them you're going on a vacation."

Mercedes looked down at the ticket in her hand. They sat in silence until finally she stood up, gathered her things, and walked out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4 - Goodbye

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...**

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Kurt watched as his friend grimaced, adding a now empty tumbler to her growing collection. "You have to leave town and go to the middle of Nowhere, America because in a moment of desperation you took a job with an emotionally unavailable narcissist who turned out to be a criminal who got murdered for stealing from a client who happens to be the biggest drug lord slash human trafficker in the country?"

Mercedes let out a giggle.

"Yup," she said, reaching for another shot.

Kurt's eyes widened.

"'Cedes," he said, putting his hand over hers.

She shot him a glare and he removed his hand, swallowing as Mercedes quickly consumed the beverage.

"Another round please," she said with a hiccup.

"No!" Kurt looked at the bartender who was about to start preparing the drinks. "Water please."

Mercedes let out a groan. "Kurt, I asked you to meet me here and help me get drunk. If you're not gonna do that then just leave."

"Mercy, look. It's 12:30 in the afternoon. We have to get you packed and you need to sleep this off."

"I'm not going." She shook her head defiantly, grasping her temples when the sudden movement proved to be too much.

"What do you mean you're not going?"

"I can't just _leave_ you guys. LA is my home. Everything –" her voice broke as another hiccup escaped, "I know is here. My job. My classes. My friendssss." She reached over and hugged him, nuzzling his neck.

"Mercy," he said, adjusting on the barstool to accommodate having someone lean on him, "What job? Your boss is dead and his replacement is trying to kill you. Classes? You can take a leave of absence. And as for us, we'll be a phone call away. This isn't forever you know, it might be-"

He stopped when he heard a sniffle and felt her body shake with sobs.

"Oh honey."

"Kurt, why is this happening? All I wanted was to be a star and now everything is blown to shit."

He cringed at her word choice. Mercedes never cursed and he didn't know whether to chalk it up to the alcohol or the situation that prompted the drinking. It was probably a mix of both.

"Come on, let's get you home."

* * *

A few hours later Mercedes awoke with a start. She looked around and tried to get her bearings, relaxing when she recognized the cover tossed over her legs and the decorations in her living room.

"'Bout time you woke up, you lush."

Santana walked over and joined Mercedes on the couch, wrapping her in an embrace.

"I love you, you know that right?" she whispered.

Mercedes nodded, feeling her eyes well up.

"So know that if you get hurt I'll kill you," Santana said, her voice slightly breaking. She squeezed a little tighter before leaning back and placing a kiss on Mercedes' forehead. She stood up.

"How much shit do you have by the way? Goodness. We've been packing for hours."

"You've been what?"

"Kurt called and told me what was going on. I met him here. You have to head to the airport in a few hours."

Mercedes leaned forward and dropped her head in her hands, her head pounding as a result of the alcohol consumed and the reality setting in.

"What am I gonna do with my apartment? All of my stuff?"

Santana answered as she began to sort the hallway closet. "No worries, I'll take care of it. I need a new place to crash anyway. The financial convenience isn't worth the hassle of an annoying roommate."

Mercedes lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. Santana had been living with her latest roommate for about three months.

"What did you do?" she asked slowly.

Santana poked her head out and tossed Mercedes a look of pure innocence.

"What makes you think I did anything?"

Mercedes just looked at her.

Santana huffed. "Fine. She said she was curious so I gave her a chance to find out if she likes chicks. Now she keeps harassing me to hook up again."

Mercedes shook her head, not surprised in the least. Her gorgeous friend had a trail of sprung saps – women and men alike – sitting by their phone hoping for a call or text.

"But yeah, I'll just take over your lease until you get back or it runs out – whichever comes first. What do you want to eat? We have to get some food in you before you yack all over your seat buddy on the plane."

Mercedes was about to answer when there was a knock on her door. She slowly got up and walked over, opening it without looking though the peephole.

"You really should be more careful when you open the door, Mercedes," Officer Abrams reprimanded as he walked in. "You didn't even ask who it was and you didn't look through the peephole."

She just looked at him. "What are you doing here?"

They stared each other in silence until Santana cleared her throat, reminding them that they weren't alone.

The officer waited a beat before answering. "I came by to see if you needed any assistance or had any questions. We have a few hours before you have to get to the airport, but I wanted to go over some logistics with you."

Santana looked back and forth between him and Mercedes, taking note of the look of interest in the officer's eyes, a stark contrast to the look of hesitation in her friend's.

"Oh."

Santana raised an eyebrow at Mercedes' response and excused herself to join Kurt as he worked on the master bedroom. When the two emerged a few minutes later, they found Mercedes alone in the living room.

"Where did he go?" Santana asked as she walked over to the kitchen drawer for takeout menus.

"A call came in on the radio and he had to go in."

"Oh. You know he wants you, right?"

Mercedes chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious He was looking at you as though he was on death row and you were his last meal. You should test out his handcuffs. You know, one last hoorah in good ol' LA."

Kurt coughed, scandalized by his friend.

"There's nothing there you guys. He's nice, but not my type."

"And your type is?"

Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but Kurt cut her off.

"Cheating scumbag or a lying criminal."

Mercedes groaned at the summary of her love life.

"Look you guys, I'm fine. I don't need a man to –"

"Bend you over and make you forget your name? Please," Santana scoffed.

Mercedes shot her a look.

Santana sorted through the menus, discarding the ones she wasn't in the mood for.

"All I'm saying is that there's nothing wrong with a case of amnesia. And if Mr. Officer Man wants to frisk you, let him."

Kurt cut in. "'Cedes, do me a favor. I know this sucks and it's not what you had planned for yourself, but you're going. Think of it as a vacation. Use this opportunity to find you again. You're hot. You're smart. You're a hell of a catch. Your mission – should you choose to accept it – is to find a sexy man in Nowhere and make him yours."

Mercedes laughed softly and shook her head at her friends. She was gonna to miss them.


	5. Chapter 5 - First Impressions

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any other book/movie/song referenced. If I owned Glee then we would just flash forward 5 years when all the important couples (i.e. Samcedes and Klaine) are together living out their dreams. But I digress...**

**Sorry for the delay y'all. This chapter took forever to write cuz I wanted to do it justice. Thanks as always for the views, follows, favorites and comments! I love that y'all have ideas about what's happening next and that you seem to love how I've portrayed Mercy. Yay!**

**Now without further adieu... **

* * *

It was throwback night and as she made her way through the crowd, the sounds of 90s r&b enveloped Mercedes' ears. The DJ was great and her appreciation for him grew as he smoothly transitioned into one of her favorite tracks.

_Boy, I been watching you like a hawk in the sky  
At night, like you were my prey  
Boy, I promise you If we keep bumpin' heads  
you know that one of these days (days)  
We gon' hook it up  
Probably talk on the phone  
But see I don't know if that's good  
I've been holding back  
This secret from you  
Probably shouldn't tell you, but if I…_

* * *

Sam smiled at what he assumed to be a joke Mike made. It had been a long day in the office and despite his protests, here he was nursing a drink at one of the most popular spots in town. His attention was elsewhere and he was relying on context clues from his coworkers to fake his way through the conversation. When they laughed, he laughed. When they expressed shock, he did his part to look surprised. But the truth was that he'd checked out of the conversation the minute she entered his line of vision. It wasn't until he felt someone tapping him on his arm that he realized he was standing.

"Dude, are you ok?," Puck asked looking at him.

Sam glanced down at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Anyone need a refill?"

His friends looked at each other and then at the full glasses each of them, including Sam, held.

He didn't wait for a response and made his way to the bar.

* * *

_You can't tell nobody_

_I'm talking bout nobody  
I hope you responsible  
Boy I gotta watch my body  
I'm not just anybody  
Is it my go, is it your go?  
Sometimes I'm goody goody  
Right now I'm naughty naughty  
Say yes or say no  
Cause I really need somebody  
Tell me are you that somebody  
_  
Mercedes tapped her fingers on the bar as she waited for her orders, singing along softly with the music and subconsciously swaying her hips to the beat. The place was packed for a Wednesday night, but she should have known that Tina would have selected a great venue. Today marked Mercedes' three-month anniversary in Nashville and Tina and Quinn had insisted they celebrate the occasion. Mercedes met Tina when moving into her apartment and met Quinn at work. It was a great coincidence that the two women were friends and Mercedes had clicked automatically with the duo, sensing that they would fit perfectly with her friends back home. She blinked rapidly and swallowed the familiar feeling of sadness that accompanied thoughts of her former life. Per Officer Abram's strong suggestion, she limited communication with Kurt and Santana. It made perfect sense given the reason she left Los Angeles in the first place, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Hey baby."

Mercedes froze as she felt someone brush against her, completely breaking her train of thought. The smell of whiskey was strong on their breath.

"I'm giving you two seconds to back off of me or else-"

"Or else what?" the stranger sneered, getting closer than he should have.

Mercedes turned around and glared up at him.

* * *

Sam watched as some man, clearly drunk off his ass, walked over to the woman in the red dress and put himself directly behind her. He quickened his pace, dodging couples on the dance floor. He approached the pair just in time to catch the end of what he could only take to be a thorough cuss out.

"...and if you ever forcibly insert yourself into a woman's personal space again I hope she's not as collected as I am and maces your ass. What kind of man are you, you disrespectful sack of convoluted irrelevance."

Sam let out a whistle as the man walked away to the jeering of those closest enough to overhear the exchange. He watched the woman turn back to the bar to get her drinks, a feeling of unjustified possessiveness settling into his stomach as another man slid up beside her. Sam waited a beat as she shook her head at the would-be suitor. The man was prepared to say something else when Sam walked over and inserted himself between the two, effectively interrupting the conversation before it could continue.

"Hey babe, everything good over here?" he said with a pointed look at the other man. The guy held up his hands and backed away, apologizing to the woman as he retreated.

"Excuse you," she said, tilting her head up and glaring at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sam looked down at her five foot nothing frame, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips as she shot flames at him with her eyes.

* * *

Mercedes was furious. First some asshole has slithered up to her like the infant version of Voldemort, then some other schmuck had approached her, and now this… man… had pulled up next to her under the pretext of being her boyfriend. And he had the nerve to laugh at her!

"Saying hello."

She continued to glare. "By rolling up on me like we know each other?

He smiled. "I saw your exchange earlier."

Mercedes snorted. "Then you know that I don't like talking to strangers." She turned back to the bar.

"And yet here you are," he drawled.

With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed her drinks and began to walk away, mentally chiding herself. Under any other circumstance, she would have ended their exchange before it even started, but something about him caught her off guard. Whatever. It didn't matter now anyway.

She got to the table where her friends were seated and put their orders in front of them.

"What took you so long?" Tina yelled over the music.

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond when she heard a deep voice from behind her.

"Forgetting something?"

She whipped her head around and came face to face with a muscular chest. She inhaled sharply and looked up into the same humor-filled eyes that had mocked her minutes before.

She swallowed and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

* * *

Sam smiled at the obviously flustered woman. Good god she was gorgeous. "I asked if you were forgetting something."

Confusion overshadowed the annoyance in her brown eyes as she tried to understand his question.

Sam held up a purse.

"Seems like you were in a real hurry to leave the bar. Any particular reason why?"

She threw him a dirty look and grabbed her purse from him.

"You're welcome," he said smiling.

"Thank you," she shot back.

Between leaving his table and approaching hers, Sam wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but this woman was driving him crazy and they had yet to have a decent conversation. Initially it was purely superficial - the way her dress sinfully hugged her curves, the manner in which looses curls framed her face, the way her brown skin glowed - but now it was the fire with which she handled herself. He had seen part of it when she was dealing with the asshole at the bar and some of it had been directed at him. He was desperate to see more... of everything.

* * *

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Mercedes asked, instantly regretting the question when she saw his eyes darken.

"Actually, there is."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Have dinner with me."

She was unable to stop the laugh that escaped. "Are you serious?"

He nodded, unfazed.

Her laughter died and she cleared her throat when she realized he was waiting for a response.

"Thanks for the offer, really, but no thanks. I don't date."

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, it is."

"Well," he said with a knowing smile, "that's really a shame. Let me know if you ever change your mind."

Mercedes didn't say anything as he turned and walked away. She took several deep breaths. Without his piercing green eyes studying her, she was free to appreciate the confident manner in which he moved through the crowd and the way his jeans and button-down fit his frame perfectly.

She stared for several more seconds before turning to face her friends who were staring at her with a mix of shock, anger and good-natured envy.

"Are. You. Fucking. KIDDING ME?!" Tina exploded.

"What?"

"Did you seriously just turn down a date with that man? Were we looking at the same person? What the hell Mercedes?"

She shook her head. If she was going to be honest with herself, she was kind of regretting her answer, but couldn't afford to dwell on it. That man was trouble that she didn't need. Now want on the other hand...

* * *

Sam walked back to Puck and Mike who stopped their conversation as he settled into his seat.

"Refill huh?" Puck said with a knowing smirk. "Did you get her number?"

"Not yet," Sam said, taking a sip of his abandoned drink.

"Well, what's her name?" Mike asked.

Sam put down the glass. "Don't know."

He saw his friends exchange a glance.

"Soooo..." Puck drew out, clearly confused.

Sam smiled. "So, how about those Titans?"

* * *

**A/N: So was it worth the wait? And so you know, the song playing is "Are You That Somebody?" by Aaliyah. I was actually inspired to do this fic when it came up on my iPod one day. Such a great song!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Second Encounters

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**Ok this was an extremely long delay and for that I apologize. Grad school is kicking my ass y'all, but this has been a great distraction. To make up for it I made this chapter super long (comparatively).**

**Thanks as always for the views, follows, favorites and reviews. Please let me know what you think about this one!**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Sam was having a hell of a week. The endless meetings and conference calls that held his calendar hostage were almost enough to take his mind off of last month's trip to the bar. Almost.

As much as he tried to fight it, the fact that he didn't have a way of reaching the woman in the red dress was gnawing at him. He forced himself to play the waiting game and hope that their paths would cross again, but, although Sam was a man of many virtues, patience wasn't one of them.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair and sat back in his desk chair, spinning around to stare off into the city view in front him.

_Get your shit together Evans_, he mentally reprimanded himself. _You don't even know her… which of course_, a voice reminded him,_ is the issue. _The internal argument he'd been having for weeks was cut short by the sound of his door opening followed by a loud knock.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow as his secretary approached his desk.

"Usually people knock first and _then _enter."

"Yeah, but that's for people who are requesting permission. I was putting you on notice. Kinda like a '_Stop beating off, I'm coming in_' typpa thing."

Sam shook his head. "You know Zizes…"

Lauren Zizes smiled sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes as she tilted her head. "Yes Mr. Evans…?"

"I should fire you."

"Psh, yeah okay," she shot back, unimpressed with his threats. She had been with the company when it opened and wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. "We all know that I'm the reason this operation is still running. I bring in the clients with my sex appeal." As if to drive her point home, she slowly leaned across the desk to pass him some paperwork, displaying ample cleavage and giving him a wink.

"You're absolutely right," he chuckled as he scanned the documents, playing into their routine banter.

"And don't you ever forget it," she said turning to leave the room. "Go home, Mr. Evans. The work day is over."

Sam glanced down at his watch and saw that it was almost five o'clock.

"I will eventually," Sam called after her, continuing to look through the paperwork. He sighed and tossed the files on his desk, looking around his office.

At first glance it didn't make any sense. Standard rules suggest that three guys with a combined total of twelve semesters of college, one graduate degree, and a rap sheet longer than some artists' discographies should not have built one of the most successful security firms in the country, but, as always, Sam and his business partners were the exceptions.

Ohio State's housing office lumped him, Noah Puckerman and Mike Chang together their freshman year and it was hate at first sight. Forced into a room too small for one person much less three growing teens, they butted heads for a whole semester before dropping the act and accepting that each considered the other two family. After that they did virtually everything together until junior year when Sam and Puck both ended up leaving the university to travel different paths – Sam to his hometown of Nashville to help his family after his father's diagnosis and Puck to the Marines after one fight too many. Mike had stayed behind and went on to earn his MBA a year after graduating.

The men stayed in close contact over the years and it came as no surprise when Sam called them together for drinks one afternoon. It took some convincing and a lot of trial and error, but what started as a bar room discussion quickly grew into offices across the country and a client list composed of wealthy business executives, politicians and celebrities. The three had connections in virtually every industry and, as of tomorrow morning, would take their talents internationally with the opening of a branch in London.

Professionally things were lining up according to plans he didn't even know he had, but Sam's personal life left a lot to be desired. When his schedule allowed for it there had been a couple of dates here and there, but he had yet to find anyone worth the distraction.

After flipping through a few more files and finalizing his notes for his meeting the next day, Sam shut down his computer and prepared to leave for the night. Stomach grumbling with approval, his mind drifted to the empty fridge waiting at his apartment.

_And yet another thing added to my to do list_, he said to himself, closing the office door behind him.

* * *

As she inched her way through West End's unforgiving traffic, Mercedes impatiently tapped her hands against the steering wheel, exhaling with frustration as the traffic light changed from green to red. The cars ahead of her had barely moved. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, anxious to get her errands done so she could go home and relax after a hectic day. As she contemplated the best route to take to the grocery store, her phone rang and she answered without looking at the screen, her eyes fixed on the road.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Jones? This is Officer Abrams."

"Hi Officer," she said, her breath catching in her throat. Worst case scenarios raced through her head. "Has something happened?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to provide some updates on the case."

Mercedes listened as he explained that in her absence, the police had gathered enough evidence to link Jesse with Nick's murder. Grief, relief and confusion washed over her in waves, each beginning where the other ended. Yes, Nick had been a criminal, but he had also been a friend. That wasn't something she could easily forget.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"Now we wait for a court date. I can't go into too many details, but Mr. St. James has agreed to cooperate. He'll be giving us information on Mr. Mitchell in exchange for a reduced sentence."

"Wait, so you mean that he gets to just walk away?" The knots that were forming in her stomach tightened.

"Not quite. The D.A. has to choose their battles with this one. St. James has the smoking gun we need to put this guy away and he knows it. He'll still serve time, but it will most certainly be reduced as a sign of good faith."

Mercedes swallowed and processed what he was saying.

"So what do I do?"

"Nothing. We've been keeping a close eye on these guys and there's nothing to suggest that you're of any interest to them anymore. Keep staying under the radar until the dust settles, but you should be fine." He paused and she heard him say something to someone on his end. "Ms. Jones I've gotta go attend to something," he said when he returned to the line, "but please don't hesitate to call if anything comes up. I'll do my best to keep you posted if there are any additional developments."

"Thank you," she said, saying her goodbyes and hanging up the phone.

Jesse was going to jail. Donovan, or Klauss Mitchell or whatever the hell he called himself, would be going as well. None of that brought Nick back or made up for what they did, but it was something.

Mercedes stared at the phone in her hands for a few moments longer and fought the urge to call or text Kurt and Santana. As much as she wanted to update them, she knew that bringing them any further into the situation was selfish. Her need to speak about what she'd learned wasn't worth their safety. Beeping horns broke into her contemplation and she looked up at the light to see that it was her turn to go. As she turned down the street and made her way to the store, she realized for the umpteenth time since emerging from the closet how alone in this situation she truly was.

* * *

Sam grabbed a cart from the front of the store and rolled up his sleeves as he made his way over to the produce section. The original plan had been to pop in for some steak and beer, but now that he was in the store he knew he'd be there for a while. He loved to cook and, although late nights in the office made them infrequent, each moment in front of the stove was treated like Thanksgiving.

He placed some vegetables in his cart and slowly wandered through the aisles, mentally preparing multiple meals and stopping along the way to get the necessary ingredients. When Sam reached the coffee aisle he stopped his cart and made his way over to the array of beans, reading each description in search of the perfect roast with which to start his mornings. With his back facing the aisle, he heard someone softly ask to get by and moved closer to the stands to give them more room, looking up as they turned the corner. When he saw caught the side profile of his fellow shopper, his heart stopped and a smile crossed his face. It was her. The woman from the bar.

* * *

Mercedes made her way through the aisles, not really paying attention to what was in front of her. Ordinarily she would've been having a field day, imagining new dishes as she moved from aisle to aisle like she was on a Food Network special, but the call from L.A. left her shook. While Officer Abrams had told her that she was safe, her mind couldn't help but drift into the arena of "what ifs." What if Jesse or Donovan somehow found out where she was? What if they still thought she knew something? She wasn't broadcasting her new location, but she wasn't exactly well hidden either.

Mind racing, she narrowly missed hitting someone as she walked down the aisle. Completely wrapped up in her thoughts, Mercedes muttered an "Excuse me" and went around them, turning into the next aisle. Stopping in front of the breakfast cereals, she reached up to grab a box of her favorite from the top shelf and sent a sarcastic thanks to her mother for her vertical limitations. Even in her heels she had to stretch a little bit to grasp the sides.

As she leaned back to plan a second round of attack – damn whoever pushed the boxes towards the back! - she heard a deep voice filled with laughter.

"Need help?"

* * *

After catching a glimpse of her, Sam had left his cart exactly where it was and walked down the aisle after the woman. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go again.

He quickly scanned the aisles in the direction he saw her turn and found her in the cereal aisle trying her hardest to get something from the top shelf. He raised an eyebrow as she tried standing on her tiptoes, the heels of her black pumps making a small click as she settled back down in defeat. Damn if he wasn't thankful for the supermarket's layout at that moment. The world should be full of tall shelves if it meant he'd get to watch her stretch like that all the time.

When Sam walked over and asked she needed help, it was all he could do to not touch her. Four weeks. One month. Twenty-eight days. No matter how you framed it, it had been too damn long since their last, albeit brief, encounter. He waited until she looked up at him and smiled when her eyes widened as she realized who he was. Her reaction made the weeks of anxiety worth it.

"Let me get that for you," he said, his eyes smiling as he easily grabbed the box and placed it in her cart.

He watched as she inhaled deeply and exhaled, her eyes locked on his somewhat defiantly. She was more beautiful than he remembered.

"Thank you, but that really wasn't necessary."

"You're very welcome and it really was. I'm Sam Evans by the way."

"Well, thanks again _Sam_ _Evansbytheway_. Now if you'll excuse me... Have a good night."

Sam moved to the side so she could grab her cart.

"Seeing you just guaranteed me a great night," he said conversationally, walking beside her.

She kept her eyes trained in front of her and walked down the aisle, pausing to pick up some flour.

"Is that so?"

"It is. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again."

She continued walking, turning her cart into the frozen food section. She opened the case and grabbed some packaged berries.

"Oh? And why would that have mattered?"

"Because we never finalized a time for dinner."

"If memory serves me correctly you've already asked me to dinner. I declined."

"Yes, but I'm asking again."

She stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. "Why are you so interested in seeing me?"

* * *

Looking at him was a bad idea. She had been doing so well, walking not too fast so he didn't think she was running away and not too slow so that he didn't take it as an invitation, but, rather than being put off by her curt responses, he walked at her pace and carried on as though they were friends.

Being friends with him was the last thing she needed. Being _near_ him was the last thing she needed too.

Mercedes tried her best to ignore the fit of his slacks and the way his shirt looked against his toned forearms. She fought so hard to ignore the way his voice made her stomach flutter and how, as he stayed at a respectable distance to give her her space, she wanted him closer.

It had been four week since she'd seen him at the bar and in that time she'd convinced herself that there was no way he looked as good as she had remembered, that the pull she felt that night had been imagined. Seeing him again proved her right and wrong.

He looked better. And that feeling was real.

Fooled into thinking she was safe based on his casual contributions to their exchange, Mercedes saw a completely different story when she looked at him. In his green eyes she saw an intensity that she remembered from that night, one that reflected what she herself had been trying to deny since the moment he stood beside her.

When she asked her question, a flash of heat flickered in his eyes and he shrugged.

"Because you look like a smart woman and I know that you know that we'd be foolish to walk away from this."

She found herself staring at his lips as he spoke, mesmerized by the way they parted to form his words and wondering how they would feel against her skin. She blushed and quickly looked away, hoping that he couldn't pick up on her thoughts. A glance back at him told her that he was well aware.

She swallowed and licked her suddenly dry lips.

"And what exactly is the 'this' that you refer to?"

The corners of his mouth curved into a slight smile and he took a step towards her. Her eyes flew up to meet his and she inhaled sharply, taking in his cologne and undeniable male scent.

"'This'" he began, green eyes searching hers, "is the fact that I was doing fine before, but now that I know you exist?" He shook his head. "I can't go back. Not without finding out more."

As she listened to his words, the logical part of her brain tried to tell her that what he was saying was insane, but the other part, the one she dare not give a name to, understood exactly what he was saying.

She cleared her throat, suddenly very warm despite being in the coldest section of the store.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he said. "'_Oh_.'"

* * *

It took everything in his power to take a step back from her, especially when her lips formed that single syllable.

"So, are you going to tell me your name or…"

She blinked and narrowed her eyes slightly.

"Mercedes."

"Mercedes…" he asked questioningly, waiting for more.

She smoothed out her pencil skirt and turned back to her cart, pushing it down the aisle.

"Jones."

Sam walked slowly after her, appreciating the way the plum colored fabric gripped her thighs.

"Mizz Jones eh? So about that dinner…"

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine."

"Please don't sound so excited."

He caught up to her and placed himself in front of her cart, effectively stopping her path.

Mercedes looked at him, raising an eyebrow and fighting a smile.

She raised her hands and clasped them together. "Omg, please Mr. Evans," she said with wide eyes and sugary sweetness, "Can you please have dinner with me? It would be so swell."

Sam smiled at her sarcasm and reached into his pocket for his wallet and a pen.

"Ok fine, you don't have to beg. Here's my number," he said, taking out a business card and flipping it over to write on the back. "How does tomorrow at 7 sound?"

"Fine."

He shot her a pointed look.

Mercedes rolled her eyes as she reached out to accept his information. "7 tomorrow sounds great. Really."

"Good. Call me tomorrow and we'll decide on a place."

"Ok," she said clearing her throat. "Have a good night Mr. Evans."

"You too Mizz Jones," he drawled, watching her turn and continue on her way.

* * *

As Mercedes walked away she felt his eyes on her back. Feeling a little devilish she put an extra sway in her hips and smiled, fighting the urge to look back at his reaction. Once she was a safe distance away, she looked down at the business card in her hand and shook her head.

Sam Evans was going to be trouble.


	7. Chapter 7 - Breaking Point

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**As always, thank you so much for the views, follows, favorites and reviews. **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

He barely had time to brace himself after the last punch before another one landed on his jaw, causing his neck to snap painfully to the side. He felt blood pool in his mouth and spat a wad on the ground, his eyes locked on his attacker's as if to say "That's all you got?"

As he flexed his hands against the ropes tying him to the chair and inhaled painfully – there was definitely a broken rib or two – he heard a door open.

"So Mr. St. James," a low voice said, emerging from the shadows, "how about we try this again?"

Jesse watched as Klauss Donovan Mitchell stopped directly in front of him, unbuttoning his expensive suit jacket and handing it to one of his men waiting on the side.

The man stooped down so the two were eye level and Jesse felt a flicker of fear at the cold calculating look in his eyes.

"Where the fuck is my money?"

* * *

_Nashville, Tennessee_

"You've been turning that card around in your hand all morning. What is it and why does it have you so captivated?"

Mercedes jumped at the teasing voice and looked up to see a smiling Quinn standing at her door. She quickly put the card on her desk and turned her attention to the computer.

"It's nothing."

"Lies and propaganda," the woman said, walking in and closing the door behind her. "Spill it."

"Don't you have that contract due soon?" Mercedes asked, trying to change the subject.

Quinn sat down in the chair in front of Mercedes' desk and settled back into the seat. "I do." She crossed her legs and folded her hands on top of her knees. She clearly wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon.

The two women stared at each other, each waiting for the other to make a move before Quinn finally reached over the desk and picked up the card lying there. She read the name on the front silently before looking at her friend with a questioning glance.

"Sam Evans? Why…? How do you…?"

Quinn took note of the way Mercedes avoided her gaze and her voice trailed off as realization hit her. "Mercedes Jones, is this who I think it is?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

Mercedes waved her off and began sorting the emails she had been neglecting all morning.

"Mercedes!," she whispered, scandalized. "Wait, how did you -? When did you - ? Explain."

Mercedes smiled in spite of herself at the blonde's excitement.

"Well… last night I stopped at the grocery store on my way home and bumped into him."

"'Him' being…?" Quinn prompted, clearly waiting for Mercedes to confirm her suspicions.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and stopped typing. "'Him' being the man from the bar."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "Mmm hmmm. Ok, so you bumped into him in the grocery store and…" she pressed, refusing to accept the abbreviated version.

"And we talked for a little bit and he gave me his card." Mercedes tucked a loose curl behind her ear and cleared her throat. "I'm supposed to call him to confirm plans for dinner."

"Wait a minute," Quinn said, holding up a hand. "You're having _dinner_ with this man? Have you called him yet?"

"No I-"

Quinn's eyes widened in disbelief. "What exactly are you waiting for?"

Mercedes shrugged. "It's been such a crazy day. Artists coming in and out, vender cancellations, meetings to prepare for and…" She trailed off at the look Quinn shot at her.

"Call the man. Now."

Quinn leaned back in the chair and motioned for Mercedes to proceed.

"I-"

"Mercedes…," she said warningly.

"Ok, fine." Mercedes sighed and looked pointedly from her friend to the door. "Do you mind…?"

Quinn shrugged and pointed to the phone. "No, not at all. Call."

Mercedes shook her head and thought again of how great she would fit in with her friends from home. She said as much to her, but Quinn waved off the statement.

"Yeah, ok, great, cool. I'd love to meet them at some point. Yada yada, blah blah blah. Stop changing the subject and dial."

Mercedes smiled as she took her cell phone out of her purse and punched in the numbers from the back of the card. She chewed on her bottom lip as the phone rang and felt a twinge of disappointment when a pre-recorded message encouraged her to leave her name, number and a brief message. She cleared her throat.

"Hi Sam, this is Mercedes." She glanced at Quinn who was watching her intently and nodding with encouragement.

"I just wanted to call about dinner… tonight… If you're still interested give me a call. My number is 615-276-0076." She paused. "Have a wonderful day," she finished in a rush, wincing as she hung up.

She dropped the phone on her desk and her head in her hands.

"Never again," she said shaking her head. "Never _ever_ again."

Quinn laughed and gave her a quiet golf clap.

"I'm proud of you Mercedes. You did your part so when he calls, which he will, just figure out a time and place and go from there."

The woman stood up and straightened her skirt.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go close a deal and make someone else's dream come true." She walked over to the door and opened it, turning to her friend who still had her head in her hands. "Oh! I almost forgot the real reason I came in here – the gala security team. Meeting's in an hour. Are you available?"

Mercedes nodded weakly.

"Ok great." Quinn smiled, a plan forming in her head. "See you in the conference room at 1."

* * *

"So what do you guys think?" Mike asked as the three men walked out of the boardroom having finalized details on their first international office.

Puck smiled. "I call dibs on attending the monthly meetings. Can't wait to build up some frequent flyer miles."

The three laughed and continued down the hallway. Sam was the first to break away.

"Alright guys, I gotta get back to my office. Great meeting, but I've got another one in an hour. Puck, wanna join? It's the music gig I mentioned a few weeks ago."

"Yeah sure. I'm stepping out for a few, but can meet you there. Where is it?"

The two exchanged information and Sam walked into his office, groaning at the stack of papers waiting on top of his desk. It was as if the pile from this morning had multiplied. He sat down and began preparing for his meeting, sketching out the venue, highlighting entry points and jotting down notes for suggested security measures. He was so caught up in his work that he didn't even hear Lauren enter until she was snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Don't you have a meeting right now?" she said.

Sam looked at his watch and let out a few choice words.

"Dammit. Thanks!" he said as he grabbed the files from his desk and rushed out the door.

* * *

_Damn, damn, damn, _Mercedes chanted to herself as she rushed to get to the conference room. In an effort to catch up on work from this morning she completely lost track of time. She slowed down as she approached the room and took a deep breath, looking at her watch. _Ten minutes. Damn._

She opened the door and walked in just as a well dressed man was speaking.

"My apologies," he was saying. "I spoke with my partner before stepping in and he's caught in some traffic. He'll be here shortly."

Quinn waved off his apology. "Not a problem. My partner just arrived so we're even."

Mercedes put on a smile and walked over to introduce herself. "Sorry I'm late, I got caught up in some paperwork. Mercedes Jones."

The man stood and took her hand. "Hi Miss Jones, Noah Puckerman. Pleased to meet you."

Mercedes took in his megawatt smile and the features that complimented it. Nice eyes, olive complexion, firm handshake... the man was a sight to behold.

"As I was saying to Miss Fabray," he continued, waiting for Mercedes to take a seat before sitting back down himself, "my partner will be here momentarily. Why don't we get started as to not take up too much of your time?"

Mercedes nodded and opened up her notebook. She reached over to the center of the table to grab a water bottle and uncorked it, bringing the plastic to her mouth to take a sip.

Quinn opened her mouth to begin when the door opened.

"Sorry I'm late," a voice came from the entrance.

The three looked over and as her eyes locked on the person standing in the doorway Mercedes almost choked.

* * *

Sam did a double take before walking over to the table. He reached over to shake the blond woman's hand.

"Sam Evans."

"Quinn Fabray," she responded with a smile and a hint of recognition that he found curious. "Pleased to meet you."

He turned his attention to Mercedes and extended his hand. Eyes trained on his, she reached out to shake it, sending a shock up his arm the minute they connected.

"Mercedes Jones," she said calmly as though nothing had happened, but the look in her eyes gave way to the fact that she felt it too.

Feeling two pairs of eyes watching the interaction with interest, Sam forced himself to remember where they were and reluctantly let her hand go.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, clearing his throat. He unbuttoned his jacket and took a seat beside Puck. "Let's begin shall we?"

* * *

Once the initial shock of seeing Sam enter the room was replaced with a professional curiosity, Mercedes had to admit that he and his partner were good at their job. Damn good.

The four got wrapped up in the duo's presentation and although she asked all the right questions and provided the necessary feedback, throughout the conversation her mind kept going back to the moment her hand connected with his. There had been an unmistakable _something_.

The longer they were in the same room, the more anxious she became and she found herself getting uncomfortably warm. Mercifully, the meeting began wrapping up and as soon as a date was set for a follow up discussion, she quickly closed her notebook and prepared to stand. Between the voicemail she left this morning and their close proximity in the large conference room, she needed to escape.

"Sorry to step out suddenly gentlemen," she said as she gathered her belongings, "but I have another client coming in about thirty minutes."

Quinn looked up. "Is this the new artist? How about I take that and you do a quick tour for our new partners? I haven't done a 'welcome to the business' talk in a while and could use a refresher and I'm sure Mr. Puckerman and Mr. Evans would love to get a sense of our operation. It's one thing to hear about the venue, but another one to see it."

Mercedes looked at her coworker and noted the mischievous glint in her eyes. She didn't even have to glance his way to know that Sam was watching her.

"Are you sure?" Mercedes asked slowly, mind racing to think of what Quinn could possibly be up to.

"Definitely." The woman turned to the two men with a smile. "Gentlemen, do you have time for that?"

Mercedes braved a look in their direction and watched nervously as Sam's partner glanced down at his watch.

"I'm afraid I can't. I have to run off to that meeting I mentioned earlier."

Quinn nodded understandingly. "Oh yes, that's right you did mention that." She looked over at Sam. "Are you available Mr. Evans?"

Sam slowly nodded and continued to look at Mercedes, his eyes darkening and a cordial smile rearranging his features. "I'm all yours, Mizz Jones."

Everything in her mind told Mercedes that this was be a bad idea, but she couldn't argue it right now without raising suspicion and possibly damaging the professional rapport the four had just spent the past two hours building.

_Professional, _she said to herself quickly. _Be professional_. _You can do this._

She smiled and walked over to shake the other man's hand. "Mr. Puckerman, it was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to working with you further. Mr. Evans, right this way."

She walked over to the door and reached for the handle, but Sam got there before her.

"Thank you," she said without looking at him. Before walking through the door she turned to Quinn with a tight smile. "Thanks for taking that meeting for me. Follow up when we're both done?"

The blonde sent her a bright smile in response and nodded. "Of course. Have fun!"

* * *

Sam had noticed the hesitancy with which Mercedes agreed to give the tour and the mild panic that flashed across her face when she realized that Puck wouldn't be joining them. This was going to be interesting.

"So where do we begin?" he asked as he joined her in the hallway.

"I guess here is as good a place as any," she said walking ahead of him. She pointed out some rooms and rattled off information about the building and company, but he struggled to focus on what she was saying. Between replaying the memory of their hands connecting and taking in the way she moved and commanded each room they entered, his mind was occupied.

When they reached the top floor signaling the end of the tour, they walked over to an elevator and she pressed the call button. When it arrived, they stepped inside and although he was closest to the buttons, he waited until she leaned across him to press the one to the parking garage. As the doors closed he turned to face her in the empty car.

"So I'm gonna be honest here and let you know that I didn't hear a word of what you just said."

She kept her eyes focused on the doors in front of her. "Would you like me to repeat it?"

"I think you might have to. It's a good thing we're having dinner tonight. That'll give you plenty of time to run through the important details."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't shift her glance or position. "Is that so?"

"Yes ma'am." He turned so that he was facing the doors as well. "That is if you're still up for it."

She looked at him before answering. "I take it you haven't looked at your phone today?"

Sam shook his head. "Been in meetings from the moment I walked into the office."

The door opened and the two stepped out into the parking deck.

"One of those days, huh?" she said understandingly. She cleared her throat. "I left you a message."

"Oh?" Sam looked over at her as they walked and smiled. "Was it dirty and highly suggestive?"

She unsuccessfully tried to stop the laughter that burst from her lips. "You wish."

Sam stopped walking, forcing her to stop in her tracks as well, and waited until she turned to look at him. "You have no idea."

He watched as she licked her lips and he bit back a groan. "What did the message say?"

She blinked. "Basically to give me a call if you were still interested."

Sam took a step towards her and brushed a loose curl from her cheek. There it was again. That spark. "I'm definitely still interested."

He took a step back. "7 still work?"

It was silent for a moment before she nodded.

Sam smiled. "Perfect. I know just the place. I'll text you the address."

He began walking to his car which wasn't parked too far from where they stood.

"What's wrong with telling me now?," she called after him.

He turned and faced her, walking backwards with a smirk. "It's all about the anticipation Mizz Jones. See you tonight."

* * *

Mercedes walked back into the building and entered her office to find Quinn sitting in the same chair she had occupied earlier that morning.

"So…" the woman said as Mercedes closed the door.

"So how was your meeting with the artist?" Mercedes asked, walking over to her desk and lowering herself into the seat.

"It was fine. Sweet kid. Lots of talent. Gonna go far. Stop changing the subject."

"Fine. Mind telling me what that was about?"

Quinn looked at her before answering. "Are you upset?"

Mercedes didn't answer.

"Ok look. I recognized his company name from the card this morning. I didn't know if he'd be the one in the meeting so I didn't say anything. Before you walked into the room, Mr. Puckerman mentioned that he'd have to step out as soon as we were done, so when Mr. Evans entered I figured I'd use that fun fact to give you two some time alone."

Mercedes shook her head, impressed. "You're good."

Quinn smiled. "So I take it it went well?"

Mercedes couldn't help the smile that formed. "Yeah, it did."

"Good." Quinn stood. "On a somewhat related note, they're great for the job. Let's prepare a debrief for the rest of the committee and get the rest of this planning underway." She walked over to the door and pulled it open. "Don't stay too late. You have a date and I expect a full report tomorrow."

Mercedes waved her away jokingly and turned her attention back to the work on her desk. She got so caught up in what she was doing that it wasn't until her phone buzzed that she looked at the clock and saw that the day was over. She picked up her cell and smiled when she checked the message waiting for her.

**320 11****th**** Ave. S. Let Jane (person at the front) know you're here for Sam Evans. Bring your appetite; I've heard great things about this place.**

She shut off her computer, grabbed her coat and purse and turned off the lights as she closed her office door behind her. As she walked out of the building and into her car, she began thinking of an outfit to wear, feeling giddy and excited for the first time in a long time.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

Despite what his name may suggest, Jesse St. James was not a religious man. He didn't attend church and based on his associations and history, he was almost certain that he'd be barred from entering the threshold. But here, in this dingy warehouse in the middle of nowhere, he prayed to whatever entity was listening.

The pain he had felt earlier in the day was nothing compared to the fire racing through his body at the moment. He had heard the stories, had seen the victims, but nothing prepared him for being the recipient of Donovan's rage.

So he prayed.

Through every broken bone, through every buzz of the drill as it entered his flesh. Through every sentence forced past swollen lips, through every name moaned through painful gasps.

He prayed and prayed until _finally_ sweet release came.

* * *

_Nashville, Tennessee_

Sam was selecting a playlist on his iPod when he heard the soft knock at his door.

He opened it and moved to the side so Mercedes could enter.

"You've heard great things about this place huh?"

"Welcome to La Casa de Sam," he said with a smile. "On the menu tonight we have something amazing and something great."

She laughed and walked into the living room. As he put her coat in the closet, he could tell that her brown eyes were taking in every detail, from the books on his bookshelf to the way he organized his furniture.

Sam walked back into the kitchen and started taking vegetables out of the fridge, laying them on the counter alongside some bowls and pots. He heard her walk into the room and offer her assistance.

"Nope. You're the guest. Just sit right there and watch me work my magic."

* * *

Mercedes settled onto one of the barstools at the island in the middle of the kitchen and took in the scene before her. She watched the lazily meticulous manner in which Sam sliced vegetables and took in how he went from cupboard to cupboard almost without thought. There was nothing sexier than a man who knew his way around the kitchen and this one was clearly in his element.

She blinked at the direction her mind was wandering in and knew she had to refocus her thoughts.

"If you weren't in the security business, what would you be doing?"

He smiled at the question. "Probably making comic books."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Sam nodded and scooped up the onions he just chopped, dropping them into the skillet and putting on the lid as they sizzled in the oil he poured out a few minutes earlier.

"Yeah. I love drawing and have been reading comics since I was a kid."

"Iron Man or Superman?"

"Captain America."

Mercedes laughed. "Not an option."

He shrugged and flashed her a smile. "Always the answer." He moved to pour out some rice into a boiling pot. "How about you? If you weren't in music management, what would you be doing?"

She smiled as she answered. "I'd be a singer."

Sam looked up as he continued preparing the meal. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. It's actually the reason I originally moved out to LA, but things change…" she said, her voice trailing off as she thought about the circumstances that led to her being in Sam's kitchen.

She raised her eyes and saw him studying her. She forced out a smile. "So tell me how you and Noah got started."

* * *

It was an obvious change of topic, but Sam didn't push. There was clearly a story there, but he'd let her tell it when she was ready.

Giving her the space she clearly needed, he explained how him, Mike and Puck got started. "And today we just finalized plans for an office in London," he wrapped up.

She gave him a genuine smile, clearly impressed. "That's amazing, congratulations."

"Thanks," he said, focusing his attention to the pots on the stove, stirring the rice and checking on the salmon. When he was confident that the meal was well on its way to completion, he leaned against the counter by the sink and looked at her.

By this point she had left her seat in the kitchen and was now standing by the bay windows in the living room, taking in the city skyline. The windows were Sam's favorite part of the apartment, but the view it provided paled in comparison to the one before him.

She had changed from the pants and blouse she had on earlier and now wore a gorgeous coral dress that stopped right below her knees. Instead of the heels he became accustomed to seeing her in, she paired the outfit with flat gold sandals.

"I meant to say this when you walked in, but you look phenomenal."

"Thank you," she said, turning to him with a smile.

"You're welcome."

There must have been something in his voice that gave his thoughts away because Mercedes' smile faltered.

* * *

Mercedes took a deep breath.

"Sam, look. I wasn't kidding about what I said in the bar that night. I don't date. The only reason I agreed to have dinner with you is because it never hurts to have too many friends and I..."

She trailed off as he slowly pushed himself off of the counter. He didn't say anything as he walked over to her, slowly as though he was a lion stalking his prey. One look in his eyes told her that he saw right through her lie.

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, wanting to look away, but not knowing how. She hadn't realized she'd been retreating from his advance until she felt the window against her back. He stopped directly in front of her, eyes dark with barely controlled lust. She closed her eyes to push the image away and felt him scanning her face, taking in every detail. The room was silent save for the smooth jazz playing, the sizzling of the meal he was preparing and the thumping of her heart. She opened her eyes and he waited until her eyes locked on his before speaking. "I have enough friends."

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't get a sound out. He was so close to her, so close that if either of them moved a centimeter their lips would be touching. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth, and held her own, silently begging him to put her out of her misery. Finally she couldn't be silent any longer.

"Sam, I –"

She saw the moment his control snapped and before she finished her statement he closed the small distance between them, making it so that the only thing touching were their lips.

He took his time, patiently waiting until she opened her lips before continuing his exploration. She moaned into his mouth, moving her hand to run her fingers through his hair, pulling him close and pressing her body against his. He groaned and grabbed her waist, bringing her impossibly closer. The sparks she had felt earlier in the day paled in comparison to the fire that raced through her veins at the moment. Just as their tongues touched he broke the connection, stepping away and turning to walk back to the kitchen. Mercedes looked at his retreating form unseeing, breathing heavily and wondering what just happened.

She watched as he took two wine glasses down from the cupboard and turned back to face her.

"White or red?" he asked.

* * *

Walking away from Mercedes took every ounce of strength he possessed. He thought shaking her hand and brushing her hair away from her face were bad. Those were nothing compared to actually kissing her, to actually holding her in his arms and feeling her body against his.

He waited for her to answer his question and bit back a smile as she smoothed out her dress. She walked back into the kitchen and sat back down on the stool.

"White will be fine," she said.

He moved over to the fridge and took out the wine he had put there after work. He poured her a glass and handed it to her before pouring one for himself.

"So..." he said, returning the bottle to the fridge. "What were you saying about friendship Mizz Jones?"

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

Artie Abrams received the call a little after 4:30am and although it was expected, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

When he had gotten word earlier in the day that their key witness in the Mitchell case went missing, he immediately knew how this chapter of the story would end. Klauss Donovan Mitchell didn't leave things to chance and over the years had perfected the art of tying up loose ends. Artie's presence at the abandoned warehouse at the crack of dawn confirmed what he had been dreading. There was a mole in the precinct. One of his men was on that monster's payroll and had told him about the St. James deal. What else did they leak?

"Sir, over here!"

Artie walked over to where the medic was standing and swallowed the bile that threated to creep up. He looked down at the severed arm.

"There's more where this came from. Scattered all over the place."

Artie took a deep breath. "And we're sure it's him?"

"Yes sir. ID'd by the tattoo on his left bicep."

Artie sighed. "Ok, tag it and bag it. I want everything tested to make sure it's our guy. No point in working on suspicion alone when it could be a ploy to divert our attention."

He walked away and reached into his pocket. After pulling out his cell phone, he ran through his contacts and pressed 'Send' when he reached the name he needed.

Given the time of day, he wasn't surprised when it went to voicemail, but that didn't stop the disappointment he felt. Voicemails were the world's ultimate middlemen.

"Evans, it's me. Remember that favor I mentioned a few months back?" Artie turned to look at the scene before him. "Looks like I'm gonna have to call it in after all. Give me a ring as soon as you get this."

He hung up the phone and sighed.

_How long did it take you to break St. James? How much did you tell him? And who the hell is he working with?_


	8. Chapter 8 - Not Business, It's Personal

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any other character, book, etc. referenced. **

**Sorry for the delay y'all. School's been kicking my ass, yada yada. ****  
**

**As always, thank you thank you THANK YOU for the reviews, follows, alerts, etc. I love that y'all are hooked on this side project of mine. Keep your thoughts coming, I love hearing where you think this will go!**

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* * *

_"Evans, it's me. Remember that favor I mentioned a few months back? Looks like I'm gonna have to call it in after all. Give me a ring as soon as you get this."_

Sam pocketed his phone when the voicemail ended, stepping off of the elevator and walking down the hallway to his office. He raised his hand in hello to Lauren who handed him a stack of messages as he passed her desk. A quick glance to the top of the pile hinted at the severity of the message he just listened to.

"Mornin darlin'. Get Officer Abrams on the line please."

His secretary nodded. "Sure thing, boss."

Sam walked into his office and closed the door behind him, hanging his jacket on the hook. As he walked over to his desk he shifted through the papers in his hand, mentally planning out the first half of his day.

_Connect with Abrams. Catch up on emails. Schedule some meetings. Get together with Puck and Mike. Talk to Mercedes…_

The thought of the woman made him smile. Dinner last night had been great. After the moment by the window, they kept their hands to themselves and spent the rest of the evening just talking. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from the benefits and pitfalls of international trade sanctions to historical discrepancies in the new batch of Marvel comics. Throughout the night she proved to be as witty as she was intelligent. She was damn near perfect. Grinning, he took out his phone and typed up a quick message.

**Good morning, beautiful. Just wanted to let you know that 1. I've got this stupid grin on my face that won't go away; I blame you and 2. There is no way Tony Stark could beat Clark Kent in hand to hand combat.**

He shook his head as he hit "Send." Even in her absence she commanded his attention and he was more than happy to give it.

The buzz from his desk phone broke into his thoughts and he picked it up.

"Yeah?"

"Officer Abrams is on the line."

"Great, thanks. Put him through."

He rubbed his neck as he waited to be connected.

Sam first dealt with the officer when he, Mike and Puck started the business. Their first client was traveling out to Los Angeles for an album release party and, given both the firm's infancy and the level of threats that the client had received in the weeks leading up to the trip, Sam contacted Artie to let him know that they would be in his neighborhood as both a professional courtesy and a way to lessen the red tape should anything go sour. From then on, the two maintained a friendly business relationship and, given the number of favors he racked up over the years, Sam didn't think much about it when Officer Abrams called him a few months back with hints of a future request. He'd put the conversation in the back of his mind… until now. Given the number of times the man had tried to reach him, something told Sam he wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"Officer Abrams here."

"Artie," Sam said, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on his desk. "How are you?"

"Sam," the man answered, "give me a minute."

Sam waited as the background noises he heard at the start of the call were suddenly cut off, a telltale sign that Artie closed the door to his office.

"Thanks for calling me back," the officer said when he returned to the line.

Based on his tone, Sam could tell that this was not a social call. "Not a problem. What can I do for you?"

"I need your help on a case."

Sam reached over to pick up the baseball lying on his desk and tossed it in the air. "Sure thing. I owe you a few."

"Are you familiar with Klauss Donovan Mitchell?"

Sam nodded, his eye focused on the catch and release of the ball. "Vaguely. Big shot trafficker right?"

"The one and only. We're in the middle of an investigation and have a chance to lock this guy up for good. Only trouble is Mitchell's ensured that our key witness won't be testifying."

"Damn. Sorry to hear that," Sam said, wondering where he came into the picture.

"Remember how I said a few months back that there was a potential witness that I may need you to keep tabs on? Given the way Mitchell operates, I have reason to believe that she may need a set of eyes on her."

Sam placed the phone's headpiece between his ear and shoulder, freeing up his second hand for his makeshift dexterity test.

"Shouldn't be a problem. Send me over some files and I'll add it to the top of the case list."

"Already in your email."

Sam dropped his feet to the ground and moved closer to the desk, scrolling through his email until he found the one Artie was referring to.

"Got it." He double clicked the file to unzip its contents and waited as they loaded onto his computer. "I'll pass this on to Mike and he'll assign one of our guys."

"Not good enough," the officer replied. "Sam, I need you on this one."

Sam raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the folder contents now available to him. Everything was saved under a case number. No names. No identifiers. Of course not. If nothing else, Officer Abrams was thorough.

He double clicked the first file.

"Artie, I really wish I…" His voice trailed off as a photo opened up onto his desktop.

"Sam?"

Sam couldn't answer as he stared at the brown eyes smiling at him through the screen.

"Sam?" It wasn't until Artie called his name a second time that he resumed breathing.

"Artie, let me call you back."

He didn't wait for an answer as he placed the phone back in its cradle, never taking his eyes off of the photo on his screen. Smiling back at him was the face of the woman he had just spent the evening with.

Heart racing, he clicked another file in the set.

His eyes scanned the document and certain words jumped out at him. _Witness. Boss. Closet. Murder. Relocated. _

He quickly picked up the phone and dialed out to the front.

"Lauren, get Officer Abrams back on the line. Now."

"Yes sir," his secretary said.

He waited a few seconds before he was connected.

"What the hell is going on?," Sam asked when the officer answered.

There was a pause. "I take it you've read through the file?"

"Enough to make me want to hear this from you. Explain."

There was another beat before the officer outlined the case from start to finish.

Sam's heart tightened in his chest. "Does she know that Mitchell got to St. James?"

"No, we just found his body and we don't think –"

Sam cut him off. "Does she know that we're having this conversation?"

"No, she doesn't," the officer replied, "And she won't know about any of it either."

"What do you mean –"

Now it was his turn to be cut off. "Keep in mind that this is my case Evans. If you speak to Ms. Jones about this I'll have you arrested for witness tampering and impeding an open investigation."

The two men were silent as their egos and pride battled it out.

Sam was the first to speak.

"What do you need me to do?"

The officer sighed. "Just keep your eye on her. I don't think she's in any immediate danger, but there's no way of knowing what St. James said once Mitchell got a hold of him. We'll keep tabs on him and his people on this end, but on your end, I know you're the best."

"Ok."

"I need your word that I can trust you on this, Evans. If you can't handle it, let me know and I'll go else-"

"I said 'ok' Abrams. You have my word. I'll keep her safe."

"Okay, good. I'll keep you posted if anything comes up on my end and I expect the same from you."

"Wait," Sam said before the officer hung up, "You want my help, so we do this my way. You keep me posted every step of the way, not just 'if anything comes up'."

"Evans, I don't report to you."

"No, you don't, but you're calling me in because, like you said, I'm the best. This is how it works - weekly updates on where the case stands. And don't give me that BS about that being unreasonable because I'm willing to bet that you're putting all of your resources into this one, correct?"

There was a pause.

"You're correct."

"Good. Looking forward to our next conversation. Have a good day Officer."

He moved to take the phone from his ear when he heard Artie mutter a curse.

"Wait, Sam… there's something else."

Sam waited as he heard the officer let out a deep sigh.

"I think there's a mole in the precinct. There's no other way that son of a bitch could have found out we had St. James."

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Any idea on who it could be?"

"I've worked with all of these guys. Trained damn near all of them. I can't see any of them doing it, but it's not looking good."

Sam nodded. "I'll look into it."

He hung up and let out several shaky breaths, staring at his computer. Steeling himself, he reached for his notebook.

Just then his phone buzzed and he looked down at it, opening up the screen to the message waiting for him.

**Ummm sir - 1. You're not exactly Mr. Innocent. Just finished up a budget meeting and couldn't stop smiling even though the presentation bored me to tears and 2. He most certainly could. All he'd have to do is add some kryptonite to his chest piece and bye Kal-El. **

Sam placed the phone gently on his desk and went back to work. He didn't even try to kid himself that this was just another case. He knew how these things worked and, while he trusted Officer Abrams and knew he had the best intentions, he wasn't the only character at play. Mercedes could very well become a means to an end in the department's quest to put Mitchell away and if they weren't going to put her first, he damn sure was.

* * *

**A/N: Kinda short, but yeah. That happened. Also, just in case you didn't get Mercy's last response, Kal-El is Superman's birth name. His major weakness is kryptonite and he's easily defeated once its in his presence. Tony Stark aka Iron Man has a chest plate that keeps him alive, so, hypothetically, if he put a tiny bit of kryptonite in it he wins. She's such a nerd :) No wonder Sam's swooning.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Promises, Promises

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any other character, movie, etc. referenced.**

**Thank y'all so much for the reviews, follows, alerts, etc. I LOVE when I see feedback on this, so keep it coming :)  
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**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Yes, I completely understand." Mercedes switched the phone from her right hand to her left so she could take notes. "Uh huh. …" She laughed at what the person on the other end said, replying, "Well I will certainly do my best. … Of course." She nodded as she jotted something down on her notepad, looking up when she heard a knock on her open door. Her breath caught when she saw who was standing there and she completely missed the last half of what the person on the line said. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that? … Oh, sure. … Yes, I'll check those numbers and get back to you." She kept her eyes on the ones trained on her, quickly looking away when the staring contest got to be too much. "Uh huh, sounds good. … Thanks so much. … You too. … Bye." She ended the conversation and looked back at her visitor. To say that it was the last person she expected to see would be an understatement.

"Sam." She swallowed and forced out a smile. "What are you doing here?"

She watched as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. Her office, whose size had never been a problem before, suddenly felt too small.

"I had to drop some papers off and figured I'd stop by to say hi."

"Oh. Hi."

"Hi."

The two fell into an awkward silence that seemed to drag on forever.

"Sam, I –"

"Mercedes, look –"

They both started speaking at the same time, sharing a small smile and gesturing for the other to continue.

Mercedes spoke first.

"Sam, thanks for stopping by, really, but…" her voice trailed off.

He sighed. "Mercedes… look… I…" He ran his hand through his hair. "I need you to understand that I… this isn't how I wanted things to go."

She shrugged.

"And yet here we are," she said, unable to stop the sadness that crept into her voice.

He nodded slowly. "Here we are."

They looked at each other, the silence no longer awkward, but full of regret. Sam was the first to break it.

"Well, I um… I better go."

"Yeah." She cleared her throat. "It was good to see you."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but evidently thought better of it because he turned and walked out of her office, closing the door gently behind him.

When Mercedes heard the soft click she closed her eyes and slowly exhaled.

* * *

_One month ago_

"Wait, wait, wait," Mercedes wiped her eyes, struggling to catch her breath. "Rewind it, rewind it!"

Sam grabbed the remote, hit the rewind button, and pressed play. He got up and started speaking in time with the movie.

"Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close," he poked out his butt to mirror the movement on the screen, "or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering," he shrugged, "are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called 'just the tip'? Just for a second, just to see how it feels…"

Mercedes doubled over again. "How many times have you seen this?"

"Eh, not sure. Definitely in the double digits though," he said, sitting back on the couch and pulling her shaking body into his arms. "How many times have _you_ seen it? Anything less than ten viewings is a crime against the academy."

"You're so right," Mercedes replied with sincerity. She placed a quick kiss on his lips and sighed. "This is nice. I'm glad we got to do this. With work and whatnot, I feel like I haven't seen you in so long." She patted his leg and got up from the couch, making her way to his fridge. "I'm grabbing another beer, want anything?" Not hearing a response, she grabbed two and picked up the bottle opener from the counter. "Sam?"

She walked back into the living room and saw that the TV was off.

Sam raised his eyes to her and, even though they had been together for only two months, one look told her something was wrong. She placed the bottles on the coffee table and returned to her spot on the couch beside him. She reached up and stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. "Hey, what's wrong?"

He swallowed and kept his olive eyes trained on the dark screen in front of them before looking back at her.

"I can't see you anymore."

She dropped her hand and drew back from him.

"What?," she exhaled.

"I can't –"

Mercedes didn't wait for him to finish. She put on her shoes, stood up from the couch, got her jacket and purse from the kitchen island, and walked out the front door.

* * *

Mercedes angrily wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. Since that afternoon, the only contact she had had with Sam had been at a meeting with Quinn and Noah about their upcoming event. Ever the professionals, nothing in their interactions hinted at the fact that they had spent time together or that their union ended abruptly.

_Get it together_, she thought to herself, turning her attention to her computer and the notes in front of her. _You're fine. He's fine. Get it together._

* * *

Sam kept his hand on Mercedes' door after closing it, silently cursing. After his conversation with Artie he tried to make a relationship with her work, but the guilt was killing him. He couldn't stand lying to her. Asking how her day went when he already knew the answer. Knowing what she was doing before she told him. Even if he hadn't gotten involved with the intention of keeping tabs on her, Mercedes was now a client. Unknowingly, yes, but a client nonetheless. To continue seeing her while monitoring her would be a betrayal of her trust and go against every ethical standard he adhered to. Right?

He sighed and walked down the hallway toward the stairs that led to the exit. He took them slowly and reached about halfway down before stopping in his tracks.

"Fuck it," he muttered.

* * *

Mercedes was typing up notes from her call when her office door suddenly opened. Startled, she looked up from the screen.

"Sam, what are –"

She barely got her sentence out before he was at her side, pulling her out of her chair and into his arms.

"I'm sorry," Sam said as his lips came crashing down on hers. "I'm so sorry."

Mercedes stayed motionless for about a second before melting into his arms. They clung to each other until a moan, she wasn't sure whose, brought her back to her senses. Turning her head and placing her hands on his chest, she broke the kiss and took a step back.

Chests heaving, Mercedes and Sam stared at each other, the silence between them providing a soundtrack to their hurt, confusion, and longing. Just as Sam opened his mouth to speak, a stutter at the door alerted them to the fact that it was open. They looked over to see a shocked Quinn reaching over to close it. Eyes wide, she looked at Mercedes and mouthed apologetically, "I'll come back later."

Mercedes walked over to the door and finished shutting it gently. Keeping her back to Sam and her hand on the wood, she took several deep breaths and willed her heart to stop racing.

"What do you want, Sam?"

* * *

When Mercedes finally turned to look back at him, Sam knew he had about one minute before he lost her for good.

"Mercedes, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that. Sorry for what exactly?"

The juxtaposition of her calm tone, her glistening eyes, and the anger radiating from her caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

She pounced on his silence. "Oh, do you need some help?" She crossed her arms across her chest. "How about for ending things the way you did? Or, I don't know, maybe for just walking in here like everything is fine and dandy? Like nothing happened? Like you didn't rip –." She stopped.

He swallowed and took a step in her direction, but she held up her hands.

"Don't." After a short pause she dropped her hands to her side and asked again softly, "What do you want, Sam?"

"You."

She stared at him, her expression unreadable.

"Look…," he started. He made another move in her direction, but the look on her face stopped him. "I messed up. I know. I just… I can't get into it, but I was wrong. I shouldn't have ended things. Not like that. Not at all."

She swallowed. "Then why did you?"

His heart raced and he thought back to his conversation with Artie.

"I…" He stopped and took a breath. "With us working together on this gala, I didn't think it would be right to date. Conflict of interest and all of that."

She shot him an incredulous look. "_You _thought. So, what?" She pointed to herself. "I don't get a say in the matter?"

This wasn't going well.

"I'm an idiot."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Ya think?"

"A very sorry idiot."

She rolled her eyes.

"And I will make it up to you."

"Doubtful."

"Try me." He started walking towards her.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why should I?"

"Because I will make it my mission to make sure you don't regret it."

She watched his approach, but this time didn't stop him. "What if I told you I already did?"

He kept moving until he stood in front of her. "I'd tell you that you shouldn't."

She looked up at him. "Why shouldn't I?" She slowly shook her head. "We were together two months. That's nothing in the grand scheme of things and yet you still managed to hurt me." She let out a shaky breath. "You can't do that again." Her brown eyes searched his. "If we do this, we do this. Don't half ass it, Evans."

He nodded.

"No backing out just because _you_ think it's the right thing. Talk to me. Give me some type of warning."

He brushed her hair out of her face.

"I won't be giving you a warning," he said, "because I won't be backing out again."

She stepped away from his touch.

"This right here?" She gestured between them. "I don't do this. But you..." She let out a shaky breath. "I'm trusting you. Don't fuck up, okay?"

He nodded, his heart constricting. "Okay."

"Okay." She nodded slowly. "Okay," she repeated more to herself than to him. She walked over to her desk and sat back in her chair, turning her attention to her computer. "Goodbye, Sam."

He let out the breath he was holding. "Goodbye, Mercedes. I'll call you later, okay?"

She nodded and he looked at her for a few more seconds before walking over to crouch beside her. He waited until she looked at him, his heart stopping at the tears that had made their way down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Mercedes." He twisted her chair so she faced him completely. "I wish I could make you understand how sorry I am and why I did what I did, but I can't." He held her face gently and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "All I can do is promise to never intentionally hurt you again." He placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?" He placed a kiss on her forehead before standing. They looked at each other for another second before Sam turned and walked out of her office.

* * *

Sam made his way back over to the stairs and pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly scrolling through his recent calls. He hit send and waited until the person on the other end picked up.

"Artie, any developments?"

"Hi, not yet. Truth be told, we're getting worried. All of our leads are turning up cold. Or dead."

He walking out of the building and headed towards his car.

"Have you talked to anyone at the firm?"

"Yeah, we've gone through all of the employees, both past and present."

"Mind if I take a stab at it?"

"Are you asking me if you can officially speak to people to see if they know anything about an open case? Because if so, the answer is no." Artie paused. "Understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I hear ya." The bit about "officially" was the officer's way of saying go for it, but that he was on his own. Sam got into his car. "And about the second thing we discussed?"

Artie sighed. "I'm sending over some names now. Complete discretion right?"

"Wouldn't do it any other way."

The two said their goodbyes and Sam hung up the phone. He then dialed his office and asked Lauren to pull up all the information she could about employees at the firm. After he was done with her, he spoke with Mike and Puck and set up an emergency meeting for when he got back. He needed this case to be done as soon as possible and that would require all hands on deck.


	10. Chapter 10 - History Lesson

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Sam showed up at her office and, having relayed the tale to Quinn, Mercedes was explaining the situation again, this time to Tina.

"So wait, he broke up with you?"

"Uh huh," she replied, sipping the last of her drink.

"Out of the blue?"

"Uh huh."

"And then came into your office asking for you back."

"Uh huh."

"And you're okay with that?"

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, but Quinn beat her to it.

"Okay with that? Tina, after leaving her office I needed a cold shower. I'd say she was more than okay with it."

Mercedes shot Quinn a look and turned back to the other woman. "Yes, I am okay with it. The situation was less than ideal, but he didn't betray or intentionally hurt me, he just did what he thought was right. I owe it to myself to give this a fair shot before I walk away. I wanna see where it goes."

"Mkay," Tina said, nodding. She signaled their waitress for another round of drinks. "If you're happy, I'm happy, but let the record show that I have a very friendly Glock. If he messes up again, just say the word."

Mercedes laughed, stopping when she realized she was serious.

"Girl, this is Nashville." Tina said with a wink. "So," she began again as the waitress placed their drinks in front of them, "does this Sam Evans have any friends?"

"He sure does," answered Quinn in a low voice, bringing her glass to her lips.

Mercedes looked at over at the blonde and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Has Ms. Fabray seen something of interest? Perhaps in a one No-"

"So, Tina," Quinn said brightly, cutting her off, "how is work going?"

"Oh no, no, no," Mercedes said. "We're not playing the 'Air out Mercedes, but keep it hush hush with Quinn' game. You're interested in Noah aren't you?"

Quinn shrugged. "He's okay... And by 'okay,'" she said with a mischievous smile, "I mean I'd tap him like a maple tree."

"Who is this Noah?" Tina asked between laughter. "Mercedes, set something up with your boo because Quinn clearly needs some and I've been pork free for so long I'm basically kosher."

The laughter continued.

"Okay, okay." Mercedes said catching her breath. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

The next night, Sam was at Mercedes' apartment and she was baking brownies to satisfy her sweet tooth. Sam watched as she stirred the batter, wondering how to start the conversation he knew she wouldn't want to have.

"Tell me about your life in L.A."

She stopped stirring for a nanosecond, a slight hesitation, but Sam picked up on it nonetheless.

"Why the interest?" she asked, reaching over to grab a bag of white chocolate chips. She held them up and, when Sam nodded, poured some into the bowl.

"Well, you've never really talked about it and I wanna know about your life B.N." At her questioning glance, he explained. "'Before Nashville.'"

He flashed her a smile, stomach clenching at the one she returned that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Mercedes stirred the batter faster. "Well, there's nothing much to tell. I moved there after college. Wanted to be a singer. Ended up working at a firm that had nothing to do with music. Took some industry classes on the side. Ended up here."

Sam watched her movements as she added more ingredients to the bowl. "Why Nashville?"

She stopped stirring completely and looked at him. "I guess you could say the decision was made for me." She stepped away from the counter and reached over to the dish rack where a metal tin was drying. She wiped it out with a paper towel and dusted some flour on the bottom. The two were silent as she poured in the batter.

* * *

Mercedes looked over at Sam and saw him watching her. She knew that she was being extremely vague, but she wasn't sure how much she could get into or where to even begin. It had been eight months since she'd left L.A. and in that time she'd kept every question, every fear, and every moment of sadness to herself. As much as she wanted, _needed, _to talk about it, she didn't want to bring him into her mess. She glanced back at him. If anyone could handle this though, it would be him. She took a deep breath.

"I moved to Nashville because it appears that I may have some information worth killing for." She glanced up to see his reaction, but couldn't read his expression. _  
_

She opened the oven to put the pan in. "Funny story actually," she said, turning back around to face him, her hands shaking. She placed them on the counter in an effort to steady them.

"My boss called me up one afternoon and asked me to grab some documents from his house. I didn't think too much about it because I'd done stuff like that before and already had a key to his place." Mercedes paused, looking down at her hands as she thought back to that day. "It was business as usual," she continued, raising her head to look at Sam. She swallowed. "When I got there, I was about to enter his study when I saw a car pull up across the street and… have you ever had one of those moments where you just _know_ that something is wrong? That you shouldn't go somewhere or shouldn't do something? As I watched two men get out of that car, I had one of those and my only thought was to hide."

Her throat tightened, but she kept going, no longer in control of the words that came rushing out. She felt detached from what she was saying, almost as if she was sharing something she had heard about in passing rather than something she herself had gone through.

"Just as I was turning the corner upstairs, the doorbell rang and I heard Nick's voice as he opened the door. Then there was a gunshot. The whole thing must have taken a few seconds, but by that point I was curled up in the corner of a closet praying that whoever was there – whoever had that gun, whoever just walked up to the door like a goddamn Girl Scout and just _shot _him – whoever it was… I just prayed that they wouldn't find me. At one point they were in the same room as me, standing right outside the closet door arguing about whether or not I was there and if..." Her voice trailed off. _"_Eventually one guy convinced the other that they should just leave and a few hours later, the police came in and pulled me out. One of the officers told me that Nick was dead. That that was his blood in the hallway and his body in a bag and I remember being so confused because none of it made any sense. How could Nick be opening doors and getting shot if he was out of town? That's why I was there in the first place, because he couldn't be. Why would he lie about that?"

Mercedes closed her eyes, realizing that it was her first time saying Nick's name out loud in months. She took a deep breath before continuing.

"A few weeks later I went back to the office to get my things and in the middle of checking my messages I accidentally pressed the intercom system and connected myself to the new CEO's line. Just in time to hear him speaking with one of the men who shot Nick."

There. She said it again. His name left a strange, sour taste in her mouth.

"I would have recognized his cold voice anywhere. They were going on and on about some client and his money and then they start talking about me. How they searched my office and my apartment…" She brought her eyes to focus on Sam. "The night before, I got up in the middle of the night and found the window in my living room open. It was strange because I always lock my windows before going to bed, but I just thought… I thought that I forgot, that I was losing it. I even talked myself out of calling the police, but nope," she said softly, shaking her head as her eyes filled with tears. "Someone really was in my apartment. They really were right in the next room and I had no idea." Her voice broke.

"Mercedes," Sam said softly.

She ignored him and continued.

"I went straight to the police station to tell the officer working on the case everything and that's when he told me all about the man I used to work for – how he stole from one of the worst people in the world, how he used the company as a front to line his pockets. Then he told me that I had to leave town without a word to my family or friends. Just leave. He had a ticket and everything. So I called my friend Kurt, got shitfaced in a bar, woke up a few hours later, and hopped on a plane."

Mercedes let out a humorless laugh and looked down at the counter. She focused on a speck of flour and brushed it away before looking back at him.

"Sometimes I replay the whole thing in my mind, just to see if there's anything I may have missed, any signs I should have seen. I figure I should be ready to give Donovan, the guy behind all this, the information he needs if he ever comes after me. That way they don't…" She paused, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. "I mean… I have to know something right? I worked there for years, I knew damn near everything about Nick and about that place, and I just… How could I not…" She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. When she opened them she sent Sam a shaky smile. "So that's how I ended up here. That's my life B.N."

He swallowed. "'Cedes, I…"

She grabbed baking supplies from the counter and began putting them away.

"These brownies are gonna take another twenty minutes or so. Do you want anything in the meantime?"

Sam walked over and put his hand on hers, stilling their movement. She looked up at him.

"I meant it when I said I won't let anyone hurt you," he said, his eyes locked on hers.

Mercedes nodded slightly before excusing herself from the room.

* * *

Sam stared at Mercedes' retreating form and slammed his fist on the counter.

_Goddammit,_ he thought, running a frustrated hand over his face. He'd read the case file every day since Artie sent it over, but hearing her tell it? Seeing her face as she told him what she's been going through? That damn near killed him. Sam took several deep breaths before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. He stared at the device for a few seconds before composing a new message to his partners.

**Look into the deceased's travel history and get me everything you can on a guy named Kurt. – S.**

After hitting "send" he cleared the counter and began washing the dishes, looking up when Mercedes walked back into the room.

She turned off the water and, without waiting for him to dry his hands, slipped hers in his and led them over to the couch. He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, closing his eyes as she leaned her head on his shoulder. It was obvious that she didn't want to talk and he wasn't going to push it. He'd put her through enough for the evening.

Just when he was certain she had fallen asleep, her voice broke into the silence.

"I'm supposed to ask you for friends to set my friends up with."

He looked down at her, running his hand across the curve of her leg. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Who are your friends?"

"Quinn, who you know, and Tina, who lives in this building."

"What are they like?"

Sam listened as she described the women, relieved that her mind was on something else.

"Well," he said when she was done, "I can definitely see Puck for Quinn."

"Puck? Is that Noah?"

He nodded. "Mmm hmm. And I may have someone for Tina."

"Awesome." She snuggled closer. "Let's plan something, but I don't want it to be too obvious."

Sam laughed. "Darlin', it's our job to pick up on things. They'll figure it out no matter what we do."

"Ok, fine," she said with resignation, but the smile was evident in her voice. "We'll call it what it is."

"Wanna do dinner this week?"

She nodded and they fell back into a comfortable silence that was only broken when the oven timer went off a few minutes later.

"Don't get up," Sam said, placing a kiss on her forehead.

He walked over to the oven and, grabbing an oven mitt from the counter top, pulled out the brownies to test them with a toothpick. Just as he was about pull the pan all the way out and set it on the stovetop, he heard Mercedes' voice.

"Sam?"

He looked over to the couch. "Yeah babe?"

"Thank you."

"For what?," he asked, taking off the mitt and setting it on the counter.

"For listening."

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Always."

There was another pause before Mercedes said, "I know that was a lot, but… it helps to know that I don't have to be alone in this."

He took a shaky breath and made his way over to her. _This ends now. _"Mercedes, I…"

His words trailed off when he got to the couch and a small smile broke out across his face as he looked down at her, eyes closed and lips parted slightly as she slept. Reaching over to grab the blanket from the arm of the seat, he sat back down and draped the blanket over her, adjusting her body so that his lap become a pillow. Confident that she was secure, Sam leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. _This ends now._

* * *

**Dear you (yes you, the person reading this right now), **

**Thank you so much for taking the time to read, favorite, alert, share your thoughts, so on and so forth. I know it's said often, but it's meant always - your support is appreciated more than you can know.**

**As I mentioned a few chapters back, the idea came to me one day while listening to Aaliyah's track of the same name and that little moment of "what if..." has spiralled into 20,000+ words, thousands of views, dozens of well wishes... unbelievable. I know that the wait for updates is long, but I hope you understand that this is really an outlet for me. Between work and school, my fingers itch to get this story out, but while I'm as anxious as you, I don't just want to post anything. As readers you deserve more. As characters who have been neglected and destroyed by those who created them, Mercy and Sam deserve more too. I'm not saying I'm writing a story to end all stories, but because of who I am, I refuse to put out anything less than my best. I write and rewrite, draft and redraft until this is something I'd feel comfortable sharing. Something I feel comfortable attaching my name to (even if it is only a pen name :)) I hope that you think it's worth it. **

**Forgive me if this message seems odd or out of place, but I just wanted to take the time to provide a little explanation about what this is, why things are going at the pace they are, and why I think y'all are all amazing for sticking with it this far. **

**And thus, ladies and gentlemen, ends chapter ten. Here's to ten more. **


	11. Chapter 11 - Fly Away

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Enjoy. Oh, and a heads up - you shouldn't read this at work. Or in a classroom. Or anywhere where people may be shocked at the content. Unless you're into that type of stuff. **

* * *

"So that was fun," Mercedes said, unlocking the door to her apartment. She took off her jacket as she walked in, dropping it on the couch.

Sam walked in after her and closed the door. "It was. Tina and Quinn are great."

Mercedes looked over at him and smiled. "Yeah, they are." She stepped out of her heels, placing her hand on the wall for balance. "Puck and Mike are pretty awesome themselves. I can see why you guys have stayed so close."

Sam leaned against the door and watched her movements, fighting back a smile as she dropped about four inches. "How tall are you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Never." This time he didn't bother trying to hide the grin that broke out across his face.

"Uh huh," Mercedes said, pursing her lips. She walked into the kitchen and made her way over to the sink. "I would offer you some water," she said as she filled one of the glasses that had been drying on the dish rack, "but I'm too short to reach the rest of the cups in the cabinet." She sent him a sweet smile before bringing the glass to her lips.

Sam chuckled as he walked over to her and slowly took the glass from her hands.

"You're the perfect size. All five feet of you."

She scowled. "I'm 5'4 jerk."

"I stand corrected." He leaned down to press a small kiss on her lips, unfazed.

"Yeah, well just don't call me fun sized. I hate that crap."

Sam straightened and let out a laugh. "Someone's called you that before?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Some idiot who tried hitting on me."

"Weak."

"That's what I said."

"Everyone knows the way to a woman's heart is to pretend to be her boyfriend."

Now it was her turn to fight back a smile. She took the glass from him and finished the water. "Oh?," she asked, turning to rinse it out. "How has that worked out for you?"

Instead of answering, Sam moved behind her and put his hands on her waist, leaning down to gently kiss the exposed skin behind her ear. Encouraged by the way she leaned back into him, he turned her around to face him and immediately captured her lips with his own. He groaned as she ran her hand through his hair and pulled her closer, savoring her taste as he deepened the kiss and gently nipped her plump bottom lip. It wasn't until he felt his chest burning that he broke their connection, looking down at her with a smile as he waited for her to open her eyes.

"I hear it works wonders." He moved his hand from her waist to stroke her cheek. "I should go. I've got an early flight."

She returned his smile and sighed contently. "You globetrotter, you. Where are you headed?"

There was an imperceptible pause before he answered. "I have a quick meeting with a client on the west coast."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "So mysterious." She leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "How long will you be gone?"

"I should be back by Wednesday."

She nodded. "Ok." Another kiss. "What time is your flight?"

Sam ran his hands leisurely down her body, setting them to rest on her butt. He gave a small squeeze and in that moment decided that the jeans she wore were his favorite pair.

"Plane leaves at 6:40."

Mercedes looked over his shoulder to the clock on the stove. Plenty of time.

"Have you packed yet?" She pressed her lips against his neck, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

Sam bit back another groan. "Not yet."

She smiled as she moved her lips to give equal treatment the other side. "How much do you have to pack?"

His grip on her tightened and he dropped his head into the crook of her neck, biting the flesh gently. "A couple of shirts, a suit…"

"Mmmm."

He wasn't sure if the sound was a response to his touch or his packing list, but either way he wanted to hear it again. He pressed his hips into hers.

"Sounds like-," Mercedes shuddered at the contact and swallowed. "Sounds like you have a lot of packing to do."

"Packing can wait."

"You sure?" She tilted her head to give him better access to her skin. "Because I don't want you missing your flight."

Sam stopped his trail along her collarbone to look at her and Mercedes felt her stomach clench with anticipation. Through their personal and professional interactions she'd been able to catalogue many of his expressions and mannerisms – humor, kindness, determination, sadness, empathy, desire, restraint, focus – but this was a new one. A hybrid of sorts. She made a mental note for future reference.

"The flight can wait." He started unbuttoning her shirt.

Even though her damp panties screamed in protest, she took another stab at being the voice of reason. "Are you-"

Sam's fingers stopped their movement and he kissed her roughly. "Stop talking."

When they parted she let out a sigh of relief and frantically pulled at his shirt. "Oh thank God. Hurry."

The next few seconds were a flurry of movement and sounds – buttons unbuttoning, mouths gasping, lips crashing, fingertips tracing – until suddenly, just as she was reaching to unhook her bra, Sam stopped and took a step back. Mercedes looked at him with confusion, her hand hovering over the clasp.

"Just… just stand there for a second."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, her look of confusion slowly changing to one of mischief. With a small smirk she walked past him and out of the room, not even bothering to turn around. He'd follow.

* * *

Sam swallowed as she walked by him, his unbuttoned jeans growing impossibly tighter by the second. It was times like this where he was his own worst enemy. He knew damn well that if Mercedes knew why he was getting on a plane the night would end differently, but it was getting harder and harder to think straight. Literally.

He closed his eyes and opened them in time to see the purple lace that had been stretched across her breasts moments earlier float onto the floor.

Fuck it.

* * *

Mercedes counted silently in her head, smiling slightly when she got to five. Even with her back to the bedroom door she could sense that she was no longer alone. It was as if his arrival had amplified the energy in the room.

Unable to stand the tension any longer she turned around and saw him hovering in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched her.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there all night? You have a flight to catch, remember?"

As seconds passed without an answer, Mercedes suddenly felt anxious. Too exposed.

"Sam?"

Still no response.

She swallowed and looked down at her bed at the cover that was resting there. She started to lean down to pull the fabric over her body, but his growl stopped her.

"Don't you dare."

She looked over at him and her eyes widened as he slowly walked towards her.

"You didn't wanna stand in the kitchen when I asked you to, so I had to do my planning here."

Mercedes felt her knees go weak as he got closer, his green eyes darkening with barely restrained lust. She sat on the bed and scooted to the center of the mattress, her eyes trained on his the entire time.

Her breath hitched as he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, his boxers quickly following. Her stomach clenched as her eyes traveled down, taking him in. She swallowed.

"We'll fit," he said gruffly, answering the question that she didn't vocalize. "We'll more than fit."

Her breath quickened as she felt the mattress dip as he joined her, her thoughts muddling as he began kissing up her right leg. His lips brushed over her calf and paid special attention to the underside of her knee before making their way to her thigh. The frenzy exhibited in the kitchen was now replaced by a slow appraisal and air of reverie as he traced her skin.

Mercedes bit her bottom lip as she felt his warm breath fan across her panties, fingers clenching the sheet as he placed a kiss through the fabric where she needed it most. She groaned in frustration as his lips retreated down her thigh, moving to give her left side the same treatment as her right.

* * *

Sam smiled when he heard her frustrated groan. If she was going to hate him, he'd rather it be for this. This he could control. This he'd gladly take responsibility for.

* * *

"Sam, please," Mercedes whined, gasping when he reached up to remove her panties, closing her eyes as she felt his breath fan across her skin again. In the next second all words were lost as he pulled her thighs apart and kissed her with an open mouth. She fisted the sheets, legs trembling as his tongue darted out, powerful and sure. It had been so long, so damn long, but never like this. Never ever like this.

The sensations were so jolting that she tried to scoot away, but he merely took his free hand – the one that wasn't busy forcing the names of deities old and new from her lips – to hold her in place. He continued his assault, wordlessly detailing every plan he had for her.

She shook her head and grinded her hips against his face, trapped between wanting him to stop and begging him to continue, when suddenly he did. Stop that is. And in that moment she understood the meaning of "be careful what you wish for."

She took a deep breath and rolled her hips against him as he made his way up her body, holding his face between her hands as she pulled him down for a kiss. She shuddered as she tasted herself, her nails scraping his shoulders when she felt his length tap against her core.

* * *

Sam braced his weight on one of his forearms and reached for her thigh with the other hand. Just as he was about to bury himself, he let out a curse and rolled off of her.

"What…?"

He didn't say a word as he snatched his jeans from the floor, quickly grabbing his wallet from the back pocket. Within seconds he was back on the bed, tearing a golden wrapper and sheathing himself.

Mercedes smiled. "So responsible."

Sam returned her smile, which quickly turned in a grimace when she wiggled underneath him.

"Plane, mister."

He bit his lip as he slowly entered her, fingers digging into her thigh. He heard her breath catch as he continued to sink into her.

"Shit," he whispered, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. She was unbelievably tight and wet. His path was a slow one as her body clenched around him inch by exquisite inch. When he was finally all the way in, he bit his lip and tried to steady himself.

"Don't move," he bit out, a deep growl rumbling in his chest.

* * *

Mercedes mouth opened in a silent scream as she felt him fill her to the hilt, every nerve ending on fire. She clutched his arms as she adjusted to the sensation of being stretched completely, the pain making its way to pleasure. Her breath caught as he slowly began to pull out of her, crying out as he thrust back in again. She wrapped her legs around him as he hit his stride, long hard strokes that had her moaning and seeing stars. She felt his fingers dig deeper into her thighs and she welcomed the pain, rolling her hips to meet his demands. She leaned up to capture his lips with her own, mimicking the movement of their hips with her tongue, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to make him feel at least half of what he was doing to her.

Suddenly he moved her leg from his waist to his shoulder and she ripped her mouth away, cursing loudly as the new angle made him go even deeper and directly tap her spot. Sam was right there with her, groaning into her neck as she clenched rhythmically around him.

* * *

Sam moaned, the friction of their bodies making him shudder. He lifted his head to look at her, relishing at the pleasure that played across her face. He snapped his hips, his eyes rolling as she gripped him tighter. "So damn good," he muttered, his lips crashing into hers. He slowed down his pace, feeling himself barreling towards release. He wanted - needed - to draw this out for as long as possible. He moved his hands from her thigh to where their bodies connected to rub her clit. He picked up his pace as she fluttered around him, dropping his head to her neck to nip at her skin.

* * *

"Jesus…," Mercedes cried out, her senses entering into overdrive. The combination of Sam's words, hands, lips, and powerful strokes brought tears to her eyes. "Sammy…" she whimpered, feeling the tension build in her stomach.

"That's it," he growled, not faltering in his multitasking. "Come for me."

That's all the encouragement she needed as she went tumbling over the edge, wailing loudly as she exploded. Her breath quickened as he continued thrusting into her, his own release triggering another for her.

* * *

Sam felt his heart beating wildly as he felt her clench and tremble around and underneath him, her screams solidifying his fate. He shuddered, reeling from his release. Slowing his movements, he dropped his head to the pillow beside her, struggling to catch his breath.

"Wow."

He felt her chest rise and fall quickly as she too tried to recover.

"Yeah."

Swallowing he slowly pulled out of her, immediately hit with a sense of loss. He rolled over and sprawled across the mattress, focusing on her ceiling fan to center himself.

"Jesus."

Mercedes turned her head and licked her dry lips. "Yeah."

Sam looked over at her and placed a kiss on her lips. "Told you we'd fit."

She laughed and grunted. "If I could move I'd hit you right now."

Sam smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "If you could move, eh? You sure know how to stroke a guy's ego." He got up gingerly and went into her bathroom to clean himself up.

"It's part of my charm," she called after him, her eyes closing.

"You're charming as hell," Sam replied, walking back into the room. He stopped at the foot of the bed and smiled as he saw that she was asleep. Shaking his head, he picked up his jeans from the floor and stepped into them, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. Checking the time, he reached over to Mercedes and pulled the covers over her, pressing a kiss against her forehead before leaving the room.

He had a flight to catch.


	12. Chapter 12 - Meet the Parents

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**Ok, so you know how they say one person's trash is another person's treasure? Well, what is my procrastination is your present. I have so many assignments to complete and instead of doing them I'm posting this because, combined with ****your reviews, private messages, and other forms of amazing support, ****I JUST COULDN'T KEEP IT TO MYSELF ANY LONGER. So here. Enjoy. Let me know what you think! **

**Oh and please note that the line breaks denote a change in scene/location.**

* * *

"Someone's at the door."

"I know."

The two sat in silence until another knock sounded.

"…Can you get the door please?"

"Sure I can, but I'm choosing not to."

"But you're right there."

"And you're the one who wanted pizza even though we had it last night."

With a frustrated grunt Kurt tossed his magazine to the side and rose from the couch.

"I don't know why I put up with you," he mumbled as he stepped over his friend's sprawling legs. "And get your feet down. That's a coffee table, not a foot stool."

Santana blew him a kiss in response to the chastising, smiling when he swatted the air kiss away.

Kurt walked over to the door and opened it with one hand as he used the other to reach into Santana's jacket which was hanging on the wall. After feeling around for a few seconds, he retrieved some loose bills from her pocket.

"Here," he said, turning his attention to the door, "I think this shou-." Kurt stopped short, the sentence disappearing in his throat. "You're not pizza."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, well we're not interested in what you're selling. Thank you though," Kurt said with a polite smile as he started to close the door.

"Mr. Hummel, I think you'll be interested in hearing what I have to say."

Kurt looked at the man on the other side of the door in shock. How did he...

"Is there a problem here Kurt?" Santana asked as she joined Kurt's side.

"Ms. Lopez, you're here too. Great. I'd like to talk to you both about Mercedes Jones."

Kurt felt Santana squeeze his arm as the blood drained from his face.

* * *

"Do you know where we are?" a deep voice inquired from the shadows.

Jacob Ben Israel swallowed hard, his eyes shifting nervously around the room. "Yes, sir."

"And do you know why I brought you here?"

"Yes, sir," he forced out, his throat dry and voice shaking.

"Tell me then. Explain to me why you're here."

Sweat dripped from the young man's forehead and landed softly on the concrete floor. He closed his eyes.

"Because I don't have an answer for you yet."

His interrogator tisk tisked. "And why is it, Jacob, that you don't have an answer for me?"

Jacob opened his eyes, his pupils dilated with fear.

The man continued. "Am I not paying you enough?" He turned to look at one of the men standing guard at the door. "Do you think I'm paying him enough?"

"You are boss," the burly man grunted.

"I thought so too," he nodded. With a sad shake of his head he turned back to face the poor excuse of a man in front of him.

"You have two days. Two days before I demote you from employee to enemy. Do you understand?"

Jacob's eyes widened and he nodded.

"No." The man tilted his head contemplatively. "I'm not sure that you do. Because if you did," he kept his eyes trained on Jacob's as he beckoned his guards over, "we wouldn't be here would we?" He paused and looked at Jacob with disgust. "I could have chosen anyone, but I chose you. And now I'm disappointed." He nodded.

Jacob cried out as his left hand was placed on the table in the center of the room.

"I'm sorry Mr. Mitchell! Please," he begged. "I'll do anything you want. Anything!"

Klauss Donovan Mitchell looked into Jacob's eyes and smiled at the terror he saw.

"I have no doubt that you will," he said calmly. "Consider this an incentive."

In the next instant the only sounds coming from the warehouse were screams and retching.

* * *

"Mercedes? What's happened? Is she alright?," Kurt asked.

"Yes, she is for now, but I need your help to keep it that way."

"Listen, you little shit. If you hurt her I'll – "

Kurt put his hand over Santana's, which was still painfully clutching his arm and took a deep breath. "Mr. …"

"Evans. Sam Evans."

"Mr. Evans, -"

"Please call me Sam."

"Mr. Evans," Kurt said ignoring him, "I'm sure you're a very smart man and have some inkling of what's happened or else you wouldn't be here, so it shouldn't come as a surprise when I ask - who the hell are you and how do you know Mercedes?"

There was a pause. "Can we discuss this inside?"

Kurt and Santana looked at him pointedly. When they didn't step to the side, Sam nodded.

"Ok then. I run a security firm in Nashville, Tennessee and have been brought in as a consultant by Artie Abrams, the lead officer on this case."

"What security firm do you work with?," Santana asked.

"EPC Security."

Santana narrowed her eyes slightly and pulled out her phone. After a quick Google search, she nodded at Kurt. The two stepped to the side and Sam entered the apartment.

"Have you been in contact with Mercy?," Kurt asked after he closed the door.

"Yes, I have."

"How is she?," Santana asked, the suspicion in her tone replaced by anxiousness.

"She's doing well," Sam answered reassuringly. He paused. "I know that my being here is out of the blue and you don't trust me, but believe me when I say that I want nothing more than to keep Mercedes safe. I'll answer whatever questions you have, but it's imperative that you do the same."

Santana and Kurt glanced at each other before turning their attention back to him.

"How did you find us? And why contact us now? It's been months since 'Cedes left town."

"I looked into you two after Mercedes told me how she spent time with you the night she left. I'm here now because the police are hitting some dead ends and the man responsible for this may walk. I'm hoping you can provide some information that can stop that from happening."

The two continued to stare at him, sizing him up, before Kurt broke the silence. "Does she know you're here?"

"No. I was brought in off the record."

After a few more seconds of silence, Santana took a deep breath and sat down on the couch. "What do you need?"

* * *

Klauss smiled as he looked at the man writhing on the ground, his hand clutched to his chest.

"It always amazes me the various pain thresholds people have. For some it's high. For others it's low…" He crouched down and placed his hand on Jacob's shoulder. "But did you know that there are several locations on every body that can illicit unbearable pain with the slightest touch?" He pressed his thumb into the flesh, causing Jacob to cry out. "My friend, I don't promise many things, so listen," he increased the pressure, "very closely. Fail again and I promise that you will become intimately familiar with each and every one of them."

He kept his finger digging into the screaming man's flesh before releasing his hold and standing. He looked at his men.

"Get him cleaned up and back to work."

* * *

As their conversation drew to a close, Sam thanked Kurt and Santana for the information they provided.

"Don't thank us," Santana said bluntly as they rose from the couch and walked over to the door. "I don't give a damn about this case or your role in it. What I do care about is Mercy and her wellbeing." She narrowed her eyes. "If you let anything happen to her, if you hurt her or let her get hurt in any way, no amount of security in the world will keep me from kicking your ass."

Kurt watched as Sam smiled slightly at Santana's words, almost as if he was impressed. "Us asking you tell her we love and miss her is pointless, isn't it? Cuz you won't tell her we spoke?" Kurt sighed. "Look Mr. Evans... Sam... it's clear that you care about her, so why haven't you told her the truth?"

Sam looked at him. "I could give you the professional answer and say that I'm bound by confidentiality, but that would be bullshit. I play by my own rules. Always have. Always will." He looked from him to Santana. "Right now when I look at her, everything I feel is reflected back at me and I don't want to lose that. To make _her_ lose that. It's a huge risk and I'm going to have to deal with the consequences when this is all over, but don't for a second think I won't fight like hell to keep her safe. To make it right." He opened the door. "Let me know if you think of anything else."

With a final nod he walked out and Kurt and Santana stood staring into the space he had occupied.

"Well…," Kurt said, his voice trailing off as he thought over everything they'd just heard.

"He's got it bad."

"Yeah he does."

"Mercy's gonna kill him when she finds out."

"She sure is."

"Might kill us too."

"She certainly won't be happy."

The two were silent for another moment before Santana turned to look at him.

"He's legit though."

"Yeah he is."

"And I did tell her to get it in."

"You sure did."

"This is gonna be interesting."

"Get the popcorn ready."

* * *

"Rookie," Artie called out into the squad room.

The officer in question walked into the captain's office with a deep breath.

"Where are we wi-" Artie stopped midsentence, surprised by the sight in front of him.

Officer Jacob Ben Israel took in his supervisor's expression and looked down at what captured his attention. He let out a shaky laugh as he lifted up his bandaged hand. "Oh this, sir? Went home for my lunch break and cut myself working in the garage."

Artie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What were you using, a chainsaw?"

Officer Israel let out a choking sound and curved his lips into what he hoped could pass as a smile. Artie looked at him for a few seconds and shook his head.

"Well, were you able to run through those files I gave you before hacking off your pinky?"

"Yes, sir. I expect them on your desk by tomorrow afternoon."

"Make it tomorrow morning. This Mitchell case needs to be closed yesterday. You're dismissed."

"Yes, sir," Jacob said as he all but ran from the room.

Artie stared at the door after him, his mind struggling to decipher the interaction. The kid was clearly lying. What the hell had he gotten himself into?


	13. Chapter 13 - Staring Back at Me

**Standard Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Hi lovelies! I know... I know. This delay was shameful. BUT I come bearing a new update - the longest to date I think.**

**This one hurt to write... for reasons. But I do hope you enjoy it. As always, _thank you thank you thank you_ for all the feedback and keep it coming!**

* * *

Sam dropped his keys on the table by the door and took a deep breath. It was good to be home. He originally planned to take the last flight out of Los Angeles, but after several meetings and some promising leads he decided to head back early and put some things together to go over with Artie. Slipping out of his jacket he took out his phone and smiled when Mercedes answered a few moments later.

"Hey you."

"Hey yourself. How was the trip?"

Sam grabbed his suitcase and brought it into the bedroom.

"It went well. Things moved faster than expected, so I caught an earlier flight back." He started lining his toiletries on his bathroom shelf. "What are you doing for dinner?"

"Skipping it. Tomorrow is the award show- " there was a brief pause and rustling as she addressed someone on her end " - so Quinn and I are finishing up some last minute prep work before rehearsals in the morning."

"Well, you can check security off your list." He walked back over to his bed and started putting clothes into the hamper.

"Your team is amazing," Mercedes replied gratefully.

"We do what we can, darlin'." Sam zipped up the suitcase and put it in the closet. "I'll let you get back to work because I'd hate to be the reason why millions of teeny boppers miss an opportunity to see T. Swift, but tell you what –" He turned off the light to his bedroom and started down the hallway to his office. "When you're done, come by and I'll make you dinner."

Her laughter turned into a groan at his offer. "I'd love to, but I honestly don't know what time I'll be done here."

"Doesn't matter. I wanna see you."

Sam felt her smile through the phone. "Ok then. I just added your name to that list you mentioned earlier." Her voice took on a playful, sultry tone. "Now I have no choice but to do you."

He chuckled. "Mizz Jones, you truly have a way with words."

"I do what I can darlin'. See you later, Mr. Evans."

Sam ended the call and turned off his phone as he sat down at his desk. Time to get to work.

* * *

_Los Angeles Police Department_

"Israel, come here for a second."

Jacob looked up from the files on his desk and saw Officer Abrams watching him from across the room. He quickly slipped the latest issue of the _Times_ under his keyboard and walked over to where the man was waiting for him.

Artie waited for Jacob to enter his office before closing the door behind them. "Jacob," he began as he walked over to his desk and sat down, motioning for him to do the same. "I need you to be honest with me. What's going on?"

Jacob shifted nervously in the seat. "Sir?"

"Your head isn't here." The officer leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. "You keep looking over your shoulder like you expect the boogeyman to attack at any moment, you're checking your phone every five minutes... Why don't you tell me what's going on. Let me help you."

"Nothing is going on, sir," Jacob replied immediately, mentally cringing at the anxiousness in his voice.

The other man didn't respond, his expression unreadable.

"Ok then," he finally said into the silence. He nodded. "My mistake." He leaned forward and began flipping through the files on his desk. Jacob remained motionless, unsure of what to do next.

After a few moments, Officer Abrams looked back up and raised an eyebrow. "You're dismissed."

Jacob nodded and stood. "Yes, sir."

He was halfway to the door when he heard the officer speak again.

"Jacob, why don't you cut out early. I commend you for coming in, but I'm sure your hand is killing you. We've got it covered here."

He swallowed, his palms growing sweaty. "Thank you sir, but I'm fine."

"That wasn't a suggestion, Officer Israel."

Jacob took in a shaky breath and slowly exhaled. "Yes, sir."

He quickly walked out of the office and closed the door behind him, his heartbeat racing. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he saw his partner staring at him.

"You good?," the woman asked, concerned.

He nodded and licked his lips. "Yeah. Just gonna head home in a bit." Jacob shot her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "These meds are stronger than I thought."

She continued to look at him strangely, her eyes full of questions.

"Ok… well," she nodded slowly, "let me know if you need anything. Want me to take you?"

"No!" He quickly backtracked when she raised an eyebrow. "I mean, no sense in you leaving the station just to come back. I'll be fine." He smiled. "Thanks though."

He walked past her to his desk and sat down, feeling her eyes following his every move. He made a point to straighten up his desk, hoping to give the illusion of normalcy. It must have worked, because a few seconds later she shifted her focus elsewhere. After looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, he quickly removed the clipping from under his keyboard and hit "send" on the email he'd been working on. Logging out of the computer, he slipped the article into his pocket and stood.

"Thanks again for the offer, Jenn," he called out as he walked out the door, not waiting for her response. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Once he was a couple of blocks away from the precinct, he reached for his phone.

"I just sent it," he said when the person on the other line picked up. "It'll take a couple of hours to get verification, but," he took a deep breath and clutched the phone tighter, sweat threatening to make it slip from his grasp. "…it's her."

* * *

Artie tapped his pen on his desk and closed the manila folder. He'd been reading the same sentence for the past five minutes, but he couldn't focus with his mind racing a mile a minute. Something was off. He picked up his desk phone and started dialing Sam's number, but quickly decided against it. He'd call when he had something concrete.

* * *

Mercedes sighed as she shut down her computer and rested her head on the desk, groaning when a knock sounded at the door.

"Oh God, Quinn," she said without opening her eyes, "never again. We're never doing this again."

The woman laughed and slid into the chair across from her.

"Put that on the to-list for next year," she agreed with a sigh. "This is insane."

Mercedes slowly lifted her head. "But worth it. Did you see that article _The L.A. Times_ ran? The buzz is growing."

"I did see." She grinned and removed the bobby pins that kept her hair up, running her hands through the released strands. "Great idea to reach out to them."

Mercedes grinned as well, immensely pleased with all that they had accomplished in the past few months.

"Now all that's left to do is sleep."

"And eat."

"Yeah," Mercedes said, fighting back a yawn, "that too."

Quinn rose from the chair and slid her purse onto her shoulders. "Wanna grab some food?"

Mercedes stood as well and made her way to the door. "Can we save it for tomorrow's celebration? I'm actually heading over to Sam's."

The other woman let out a whistle and made a show of checking her watch. "Oh reeeeaaaallyyyy," she purred suggestively. "How's that going?"

Mercedes looked at her and smiled. "Really well." She slipped into her jacket and opened the door, turning off the light as they walked out into the hallway. "How are things with you and Mr. Puckerman?"

The blonde shrugged. "Eh, it's going. Too early to tell, but he seems interesting enough."

Mercedes hid a smile and didn't say anything as they walked a few more steps.

"Ok, fine," Quinn huffed, giving into Mercedes' unspoken challenge and trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile of her own. "The man is amazing, but I'm trying to take this one slow. We're going to dinner after the award show, so I'm actually gonna need to rain check that rain check."

Mercedes smiled and reached out to rub the other woman's arm. "Done." She turned to walk towards her car. "See you tomorrow, bright and early."

Quinn waved as she walked in the other direction towards her own vehicle. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be here before the birds wake up."

Mercedes laughed and quickly closed the space between her and her car. The fatigue of earlier was slipping away as the thought of her destination gave her a second wind.

* * *

Sam was just stepping out of the shower when he heard the buzzer sound. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the living room, glancing down dismissively at the small trail he was leaving behind him. He opened the door without even bothering to look through the peephole and quickly pulled Mercedes through the threshold, bending down to capture her lips with his. Her hands immediately went to the nape of his neck to bring him closer. It wasn't until breathing became difficult that they broke apart. Sam placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hi," she said, blushing slightly when she got a better look at him. "Is this…" she swallowed. "Is this a bad time?"

Sam loosened his hold from around her waist and leaned over to push the door closed, replacing his hand before she could even register its absence.

"Not at all," he murmured as he moved his hands lower.

She ran her hands from his neck down his arms, relishing in the lean muscles that tensed at her touch. She bit her bottom lip, stomach clenching when she felt his grip on her tighten.

"So, how was your flight?"

"It was fine," Sam replied distractedly, grabbing her hand and leading her to his bedroom. Her heels click clacked briskly as she rushed to keep up with his long strides.

"And your trip? Did you get a lot done?"

Once inside the room Sam turned to face her and slid her purse off her shoulder.

"Yup."

She smiled and slowly took off her coat, letting it pool at her feet.

"What snacks did they have on the flight?"

Sam raised an eyebrow before walking behind her.

"Sometimes-" Mercedes inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss on her shoulder and unzipped the back of her skirt. "Sometimes they give you good things. For instance, one time," her breath caught when he started working the skirt past her hips and paused to caress her skin, "I got mints and some Ritz crackers. But some flights suck and -"

"Mercedes?"

She looked over her shoulder, eyes following him as he made his way back to stand in front of her.

"Stop talking."

She narrowed her eyes slightly and pursed her lips as she stepped out of her skirt, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal one of her favorite bras. She had worn it as a way to channel her inner diva for the hectic day at work, but the way Sam's eyes darkened as it was revealed was an unintended, but very much appreciated, bonus.

Stripped down to her heels and underwear, Mercedes backed Sam up slowly until his legs hit the bed. She gently placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed down, keeping her eyes locked on his as he sat on the edge, his silent dare spurring her on. She ran her hand down his chest and moved her fingernails gently across his nipples, smiling at his responsiveness. He was still somewhat damp from his shower so she leaned forward to lick the moisture that remained, mentally cheering when she heard him groan.

"Mercedes…" Sam said, his voice low.

She ignored him and continued her exploration, cataloging every inch so that she could call on the memory at a later time. When her hands reached his towel she traced the edge of it with a feathered touch, allowing her nails to scrape the skin gently. Sam called her name again, his voice going impossibly deeper and she looked at him with hooded eyes as she undid the towel with a flick of her wrist.

"Stop talking."

* * *

Sam drew in a breath when the cool air hit his flesh and let it out in a growl when Mercedes' warm breath soon followed. He pressed his hands into the mattress, fighting for control as her hands continued their tortuous journey across his skin. He looked down at her and felt his stomach drop at the look in her eyes. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn't know – but then she took him in her mouth and he forgot what day it was.

"Fuck." The syllable was said softly, almost like a prayer and he had to stop himself from thrusting up.

She continued to tease him, running her tongue over the most sensitive part of him and using her hands to create a vice grip that had him shaking. As her lips and throat took more of him in, he groaned deeply.

"Shit…" he whispered, fighting desperately to hang on.

* * *

Mercedes smiled around him, moving her lips and tongue slowly. He was damn near speechless and the words that did come were spoken with an intensity she had never heard before. He was close and she loved that it was all because of her. With one final twirl she released him from her mouth with an audible pop and looked up with a smile. Sam licked his lips and Mercedes' stomach fluttered as he lifted her onto his lap.

There were no words as he sheathed himself with protection, ripped away her panties and positioned her over him, bringing her down on his hard length smoothly. Heartbeats racing and nerve endings on fire, they gasped in unison, neither of them moving as they savored the sensation of being reconnected. Slowly Mercedes began to swivel her hips, pushing Sam back onto the bed and spreading her hands over his chest. Almost immediately he joined her rhythm and she moaned, loving the way he gripped her hips and manhandled her in the best way possible. She felt powerful above him as she controlled his pleasure as well as her own. She licked her lips lustfully and picked up the pace.

* * *

Sam let out another curse as he watched Mercedes move above him, a vision with her hair wild and skin glowing. He gripped her tighter, her moans tapping him right in the core. Suddenly she stopped the salacious roll of her hips and he took a deep breath, thankful for the reprieve. The break was short lived however, because almost immediately she started clenching around him, milking him in a rhythm that was their very own.

He leaned forward and pushed up her bra, taking one of her released nipples into his mouth and biting gently. He felt her hands fly onto his head, keeping him steady as he moved his attention to her other breast. Mercedes whimpered and he lifted his head, bringing her lips down to his. She resumed her movements, winding and rolling onto him, the kiss turning messy as their movements became frenzied. It wasn't enough that they were joined in the most intimate way possible; they needed more. Their hands, lips, and tongues battled for control as they gripped, caressed, and licked, trying to get impossibly closer.

Placing his hand on the middle of her back Sam flipped them over, running his hand up one of her legs and guiding it to his waist. As he pulled out of her his eyes caught sight of her feet and the realization that she still had on her heels triggered something primal. He gave a sharp thrust back into her and received a sharp squeeze in return. Settling into a steady rhythm, he leaned down to bite her shoulder, the material of Mercedes' bra and her hard nipples scraping against his chest. He felt her hands travel down his back to grip his ass, pulling him deeper as she rolled her hips underneath him. Between the soft moans sounding in his ear and her muscles pulsing around him, Sam felt the familiar tingle in the pit of his stomach.

"Come," he demanded gruffly in her ear, changing the angle of penetration and reaching between them to grab her breast. She let out a loud scream and he swallowed it with a kiss, using his tongue to mimic his thrusts. His movements intensified as he moved his mouth from her lips to leave bites between her neck and her shoulder and he felt her body tense as she wailed. The sharp press of her nails and the rhythm of her release triggered his own and he trembled, hips slowing down until all that moved were their chests as they struggled to draw in oxygen.

* * *

Mercedes' hands dropped from around Sam and flopped onto the mattress. She moaned contently, pleased with the weight of him on her. When he rolled off a few moments later, she was disturbed and confused by the immediate loss she felt. She kept her eyes closed and was trying to drown out the thoughts rushing through her head when she realized he had said something.

"What?"

He cleared his throat. "Ritz crackers."

"What about them?" she said mustering up the strength to turn her head and look at him.

"On the flight we had Ritz crackers."

She smiled. "Oh."

The two laid in comfortable silence until Sam looked at her and sat up.

"I promised you dinner," he said softly, leaning over to press a kiss on her shoulder. "Stay here."

She swallowed as he got up from the bed and went into the bathroom. She watched him like a hawk as he walked back out and slipped into a pair of sweatpants and she was still staring when he walked out of the room. When he disappeared around the corner she buried her face into the mattress and closed her eyes, the kiss on her shoulder outweighing the mind numbing orgasm he had given to her moments before.

_Oh damn_.

* * *

Sam opened his fridge and pulled out the ingredients needed to make some omelets. A glance at the clock showed that it was almost 1am, so the meal was somewhat appropriate.

He moved effortlessly from fridge to counter to stove, combining vegetables and dairy products from memory. Once everything was ready he stood back and looked his handy work, a smile of pride turning into a frown of discontent. Something was missing.

Sam walked over to the counter and selected some bananas from the fruit basket. He peeled and sliced them and walked back over to the fridge to add some berries to the mix. He had no idea why this was taking so long, but for some reason this meal was extremely important. He shook his head and forced himself to step away from the food spread and get Mercedes.

He found her sitting on the floor wearing one of his shirts, her back facing him and he stood there silently, taking in the view. After a few moments she turned around and smiled.

"You play?"

Sam saw that she was kneeling in front of his guitar case, her small hands tracing its sides.

He smiled. "Uh huh. Been playing for a few years." He leaned against the doorframe and watched her admire the case. "You can take it out if you want."

She looked over at him and then back at the case.

"How long have you had this?"

"Since I was in high school. I got it for my sixteenth birthday."

He watched her nod slowly and noticed that she didn't make a move to take him up on his offer. He walked over to where she sat and joined her on the floor, pulling the case towards him. He opened it and stared down at the wood in front of him. So many stories were captured within its frame and strings.

Mercedes' soft voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Tell me."

One look at her face told him exactly what she meant. He cleared his throat.

He took out the guitar and rested it on his thighs as he settled against the bedframe, his legs stretched out in front of him. Sam took a deep breath.

"Growing up I never knew that we were poor. Not really anyway. My parents worked hard to keep that from my siblings and me… there was always food on the table, clothes on our back, and a roof over our head, but I could pick up on the little things – how they whispered when they thought we weren't around, how anxious they got whenever the phone rang, the late hours they worked…" He paused and ran his hand across the instrument. "I remember begging for this thing for years, but I slowly caught onto the fact that it wasn't an option so," he shrugged, "eventually I stopped asking."

"One day I went to pick my brother and sister up from school and Stacey came running out in tears because someone said that we were too poor to keep our house. Apparently one of her classmates was the kid of a banker who liked to talk business at the dinner table and let out that we weren't keeping up with monthly payments. I told her that no way was that true and she believed me." He looked over at her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Big brother powers and all of that, but..." he swallowed, "I knew there was some truth to it. My dad had gotten laid off from work a few days earlier and my mom was crying all the time…" He realized that he'd been absentmindedly plucking at the guitar strings and removed his hands, putting them on the floor. He had never been one to talk about himself, especially not to this degree.

"When we got home, both of my parents were sitting in the kitchen waiting for us and I just knew that this was gonna be the conversation where they tell us that we're moving or something. Instead my mom came over and gave us a hug, put some cake down, and they all started to sing me happy birthday." He looked at Mercedes but quickly averted his eyes. "I had completely forgot that it was that day." He shook his head. "About halfway through my dad just stops and looks at me with this look of complete confusion and goes '_You know, son. There's missing something. Can you check the living room for a sec?_' I'm confused as hell and dying to tell them what happened with Stacey, but I go like he tells me to." He gripped the guitar handle tightly. "This was sitting out there waiting for me, with a bow on top." Sam's voice cracked slightly. "And I just… I just broke down."

He licked his lips. "So flash forward a few years and things are going fine. My parents managed to have steady jobs, Stacey and Stevie are really settled into things and I'm over at Ohio State horsing around. I'm out one night with Puck and Mike when I get a call from my mother telling me that my dad's in the hospital and I need to get home quick. So, I packed an overnight bag, took this, hopped on a bus, " he shrugged, "and I never went back."

Sam paused and kept his eyes low. The last thing he needed was pity, but for some reason the words kept spilling out.

"My dad eventually got better, but he couldn't work like he used to so I stayed around to help out with things. It got to point where we had to start selling stuff like a goddamn garage sale and I…" He let out a humorless laugh. "I brought this to the pawn shop to see if we could get something for it and the guy refused to buy it from me. So I went to the next shop and then the next and eventually had to go into the next town. No one would look at it. I finally asked the guy in the last shop I visited why I kept getting turned down." He blinked, feeling something in his eyes. "Turns out my dad made some calls while he was in the hospital. He spoke with every pawn shop and music store in the state and told them not to buy this from me."

By this time Mercedes had joined his side and covered his hand with her own.

"So…" Sam shrugged at the contact, feeling exposed. He still couldn't meet her eyes. "…that's the story of my guitar."

They sat there like that – with her hands on his – until her soft voice broke the silence. "Play me something?"

Sam raised his eyes and looked at her for a moment before nodding. He picked up the guitar and strummed it gently, getting re-acclimated with the instrument. He closed his eyes as he played a few chords, his fingers quickly finding their rhythm and he started to hum along. When he finally opened his mouth, the voice that came out kind of surprised him. It had been so long that he had sang that he almost didn't recognize it.

_Aren't you somethin', an original  
Cause it doesn't seem merely assembled_

_And I can't help but stare, cause  
I see truth somewhere in your eyes  
I can't ever change without you  
You reflect me, I love that about you  
And if I could, I would look at us all the time_

He lifted his eyes to hers.

_Cause with your hand in my hand and a pocket full of soul  
I can tell you there's no place we couldn't go  
Just put your hand on the glass  
I'm here tryin' to pull you through  
You just gotta be strong_

_I don't wanna lose you now  
I'm lookin' right at the other half of me  
The vacancy that sat in my heart  
Is a space that now you hold  
Show me how to fight for now  
And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy  
Comin' back here to you once I figured it out  
You were right here all along_

_It's like you're my mirror  
My mirror staring back at me  
I couldn't get any bigger  
With anyone else beside me  
And now it's clear as this promise  
That we're making  
Two reflections into one  
Cause it's like you're my mirror  
My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me…_

He played out the ending notes, using the side of the guitar to keep tempo until finally his voice faded into silence.

* * *

Mercedes sat frozen as he played and it wasn't until she heard the last note that she realized she had been holding her breath.

The silence hung between them for several moments and he shot her a sheepish smile that turned into a look of concern. Sam reached out to wipe a tear that made its way down her cheek and she leaned in, taking his face between her hands as she kissed him softly.

"Thank you," she whispered. She kissed him again.

Sam placed the guitar beside him on the floor and pulled her onto his lap as the kiss deepened.

* * *

"That was the plan all along, wasn't it," Mercedes said as she stared up at the ceiling.

Sam smiled and braced himself on his hand, reaching over to move a strand of hair from her face.

"You caught me."

Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by her stomach growling.

Sam chuckled and patted her belly. "Let's get something in you. You must be starving."

Mercedes winked at him. "Been there, done that don't ya think?"

Sam laughed, relieved that his confession hour hadn't made things weird between them. If he had any doubts about the fact that he lo-

His breath caught in his throat at the start of that thought and he swallowed as he watched her pick up his discarded shirt from the floor and slip into it.

"Mercedes," he said, the sweetness of her name dulled by the bitterness of what he had to say next.

"Yeah?" She looked at him as she walked towards the door. He sat up, but didn't say anything immediately. He must have waited longer than he thought because she tilted her head with concern.

"You okay?" she asked, stopping in her tracks.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just -."

Her stomach growled again, interrupting him. "Can we talk and eat?"

Sam licked his lips and nodded. "Yeah," he said, standing to slip into his sweatpants, "that works."

* * *

Mercedes walked into the kitchen and gasped slightly at the spread in front of her. She turned around to look at Sam when he entered behind her.

"Did you just do all of this?" she asked, touched.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well I did say I was gonna make you dinner… Mercedes, look, I really need to –"

"Do you want orange juice, cranberry juice, or water?" she asked as she walked over to his fridge, holding the door open to look at the options.

Sam took a deep breath. "Water will be fine."

Mercedes walked over to him with two glasses and looked at the omelets.

"Sam, this looks amazing."

"Thanks." He grabbed two plates. "Fruit?"

She nodded and walked behind him to wrap her arms around his waist. "Yes please." Her voice was muffled as she pressed a kiss onto his back.

Sam dished out the food and was about to ask if she wanted anything else when his cell phone rang from his bedroom.

Mercedes walked over to the cutlery drawer and grabbed two forks, placing them on the counter for them to use. She looked at him. "Are you gonna grab that?"

He shook his head and brought their plates over. "It can go to voicemail. Besides, we're about to eat."

Mercedes smiled as he kissed the top of her head as he took a seat beside her.

* * *

Sam cut into his omelet and watched as Mercedes took the first bite of hers.

He felt a small degree of triumph when she closed her eyes in contentment and waited for her to finish her bite.

"Sorry it's cold. I didn't do the timing right."

"Sam, this is amazing. And so was the reason why it's cold," she shot him a look that let him know just how amazing she thought it was.

He smiled and opened his mouth to respond when the phone on the wall beside the stove rang.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Goodness, someone really wants to get a hold of you. Are you sure you don't wanna get it? It could be something to do with work." She got up from the table, glass in hand. "Want any more water?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm fine thanks. And we have a system at work for emergencies. Everything else can go to voicemail."

As if on cue, the answering machine beeped and the caller began their message.

"Evans, where the hell are you? It's Artie."

Mercedes stopped in her tracks and turned her head towards the voice echoing through the kitchen.

"Surprised to hear you were in town. Usually I get a call when my favorite security team is playing in my backyard."

She looked from the machine to Sam, her expression unreadable.

"Anyway, I have something on this Donovan case that needs immediate follow up and I don't wanna discuss it over a message. Call me back when you get this."

Mercedes reached out blindly, looking for something to hold onto.

Sam scrambled to his feet and started to move towards her. "Mercedes, I –."

"Don't touch me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't you fucking touch me."

She stalked away from him, yanking off his shirt as she walked back into his bedroom. When she emerged seconds later she was haphazardly buttoning her blouse and tucking it into her skirt. She quickly put on her shoes and stuffed her rumbled underwear into her purse, trying to shrug into her jacket at the same time.

When she walked past him towards the door, Sam grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him.

"Mercedes-"

"I said don't touch me," she said, again with the same calm voice, yanking her arm free. The fire in her eyes was the only hint of her anger. "You and your buddy Officer Abrams can go fuck yourselves."

Sam closed his eyes as Mercedes walked out of his apartment, the door closing with finality behind her.

* * *

**A/N: See why this hurt?! And the song Sam sings is "Mirrors" by Justin Timberlake. If you don't have that album go buy it. Now.  
**

**Okay, and as you're taking in what just went down, I have a question for all you Sam/Mercedes fanfic fans: A few months ago I started reading a story where Sam was a comic book store owner and one day his sister uses his computer. She checks his email and, thinking she's helping him, sends out a bunch of emails in his draft folder to.. .dun dun dun Mercedes. ****  
**

**Has anyone read this story or know what I'm talking about? I forgot to save where I found it lol so I can't read updates! Not sure if it was here or Tumblr, but if you help me play detective I'd be forever grateful.**

If y'all don't know what I'm talking about, I'll post it when I figure it out for you all to read lol. I'm always down to share great writing. 


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